


Blind

by Theconsultingdetective



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Character, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Nightmares, PTSD, War flashbacks, blind!cas, debilitating injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theconsultingdetective/pseuds/Theconsultingdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Milton has all he needs-his bees, his house, and his caretaker and friend Meg Masters. Until, that is, he meets Dean Winchester, a small town journalist, who shows him a part of his life he didn't even know he was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Just Seen A Face

          Cas wrapped his arm tightly around Meg's.

"Hold on, Clarence," she said, extending her arm to stop him from crossing the street prematurely.

"Oh, right." He pushed his black sunglasses up on his nose and shifted his weight. They stood and waited for the little outline of the walking man to appear. "And you have it on good authority that this place is good, right?"

"Course I do, Cas. Just trust me." She put her hands loosely into the small pockets of her dark jeans.

"Meg, I trust you with my life every day. There are no trust issues between us," he joked.

"I know. Come on," she said with a slight laugh. They crossed the street, seemingly joined at the hip, and stepped back onto the sidewalk. Meg's shoulders relaxed. The sidewalk was fairly empty, since it was a weekday. They walked past a antique store, a dry-cleaner, and a bookshop before reaching their destination. "Alec's Diner," Meg read. They opened the door and the bell jingled.

"Sure smells like a diner," Cas said.

          "What do you really have to lose, anyway?" Meg asked rhetorically as she chose a booth and sat down, with Cas taking the seat across from her. The sun streamed through the window, warming his cheek, and he smiled. "It feels like a nice day," he said. 

"It is. There's fluffy clouds and one of those suns kids draw, with the actual rays and sunglasses." He laughed.

"Sounds fantastic." Without Cas knowing, a man at the counter waved at him. These situations always made Cas feel awkward-people waving at him, not knowing he was blind, and Meg having to tell him so they could explain.

"Cas, a guy at the counter just waved to you," she said conspiratorially. Cas sighed.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go, then." He started to get up, but Meg put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. "Wait," she said. "He's pretty cute."

"Okay, then. I'll wait here, you go make your conquests."

"No, no, no," she objected. "He waved at you. You should go by yourself."

"Meg, I'm not going to do that. I'll trip and embarrass myself."

"Clarence, listen. An attractive guy just showed an interest in you. You're gonna walk over there and knock him dead," she said, sounding like a wrestling coach. "It's a straight shot to the counter, he's three stools to the left of our booth, there's an empty stool beside him, and he's still looking at you. Go!" Cas sighed.

"Fine. But if something goes wrong..." 

"Nothing will go wrong. Positive visualization. Now go!" 

          He stood up, his cane folded and tucked in his pocket, and walked over to where he was told the counter, praying he was sitting by the supposedly attractive man, not some angry, random stranger. "Hey," said the man. "I'm Dean."

"Hello, Dean. I'm Cas." He did not mention his eyes; _it had not come up,_ he rationalised, and besides, it was probably obvious. Behind him, Meg had ordered two coffees and was watching like a concerned yet proud mother.

"Cool name," Dean said. He motioned to a waitress. She came over, and he read the name tag on her red apron. "Hey, Polly, can I get a coffee?" he said, and turned to Cas. "Cas, coffee?"

Yes, thank you." The corners of Cas' mouth flinched upward just barely. A stranger was buying him coffee.

_How odd was this,_ he thought.

"So Cas, you're new in town?" Dean asked.

"No, actually. I live out in the country. But this is my first time here. How about you?"

"I've been staying in town for four or so days. In a hotel. I move around a lot."

"Really? Why?" Cas asked. Dean shrugged.

"My job sorta requires it. I'm a journalist." Cas hummed.

"Interesting. What are you in town for?" The waitress brought their coffee and Dean smiled at her in thanks and passed Cas his mug. He lifted the cup to his lips without spilling a drop.

"Something about a homegrown revolution. You know, people gardening and farming and stuff. Honestly, I really just took the job so I could travel. How about you?" Dean shook a sugar packet from the yellow and red bowl into his coffee.

Cas knew he should mention he was blind, just in case Dean somehow hadn't guessed, but how would he work it into the conversation- _"thanks for the coffee, by the way I'm blind?"_ He decided to take small steps. Maybe nothing would come of it. Maybe they would talk about journalism and travel and then part ways entirely and never see each other again. That didn't seem to be the way things were going, though.

"I'm a beekeeper. I harvest my own honey and sell it sometimes. It's good work."

"No way! Man, that is such an awesome coincidence. Listen, would you mind if I did a piece on you? I'm leaving next Sunday...would tomorrow be a good time for you?" Cas tried to keep the excitement in his mind from manifesting itself onto his face.

"Sure, around two? I could even cook for you, if you'd like." Everything in Cas was shouting, "Don't get involved," but it was too late.

"Yeah, that'd be really nice. I can hardly remember the last time I've eaten a homecooked meal."

"Well, I guess I can't mess it up too badly, then. Oh, the address is 3849 Red Tail Falls. It's kind of out of town." Dean reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans, pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen, and scribbled down the address. 

"Can't be far. And besides, it'll make a great story." Dean asked the waitress for a spoon when she came around next, then said, "So Cas, how did you get into beekeeping?"

"I've just always been fascinated by them. Their behaviour is really unique, especially among animals so undervalued. They're very social creatures. They create specific castes in their communities." Behind his sunglasses, Cas' sightless blue eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Castes like what?" Dean asked, his curiosity evident in his voice.

"Well, at the top of the social pyramid is the queen. She has all the offspring of the hive, but other than that doesn't have to do any work. Then there are the...actually, I won't go into detail now, or else we'll have nothing to talk about tomorrow night," he said with a small laugh.

"We'll have plenty to talk about, I'm sure," Dean said. Cas could hear the smile in his voice and blushed. "You're from here?" Cas shook his head.

"I'm from Colorado. My family moved when I was young, for my father's job." Dean nodded. 

"So, what's your family like?" Castiel shrugged. 

"Odd. Big," he laughed. "Lots of siblings. It's all somewhat strained, we don't see each other often." Dean hummed, nodding. "Yourself?"

"Just me and my brother, now," he said. "Mom died when we were kids, dad a couple years ago." Cas frowned. 

"That's difficult. I'm sorry." Dean shrugged. 

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed. "Y'know, I was young when my mom died, and I was never real close to my dad, so..." he sighed, then seemed to brighten. "Enough about that, though. What do you like to do? I mean, apart from beekeep, since it's a strictly taboo topic," Dean teased.

"Oh, nothing interesting. I cook, I read, I listen to music. You?" Dean scratched his cheek and Cas could hear his fingers brush against short stubble on his jaw. That was the first thing he knew about how Dean looked-he had stubble. That, of course, and how glowingly, if vaguely, Meg had described him. _I have to ask her to elaborate later,_ he thought. 

"Well, I write, obviously, and work on my car, and collect vinyl," Dean replied.

"What kind of vinyl?" Cas asked. Now it was Dean's turn to get enthusiastic.

"Old stuff. Like, Led Zepplin and AC/DC. Do you collect?"

"I used to, when I was younger. I used to have a lot of Elvis; I don't know what was wrong with me," he laughed. "I had all these little 45's, and tons of those little plastic things..." 

"45 adapters," Dean added, nodding. 

"Exactly! I lost those things constantly." 

"So do you still have any of your records?" he asked. 

"A few. Not as many as I had when I was younger, though. I had this habit of lending them to people who would loose them, or break them, or scratch them beyond repair, but I still lent them to people anyway. I was crazy when I was young." Dean laughed a little. 

"Yeah, well, that's part of being young," he said. He took another drink of his coffee. Cas shrugged and nodded. 

"I suppose so. So where are you from, originally?"

"Originally-originally, Lawrence Kansas. But the newspaper I work at is in Huntington. It's this tiny town, 6 or so hours from here." 

"Sounds like a long drive," Cas said. "I've been to Lawrence, actually. Do you like small towns?" 

"They're alright," Dean replied. 

"There's a happy medium, ya know? Like, somewhere between Huntington and New York City," he laughed. "But that's a pretty big margin. What about you?" 

"Probably small towns by default. You can't really raise bees on top of a high-rise," he said with a little laugh. Dean smiled. "So are you liking it here in Yamhill so far?" Cas asked.

"It's growing on me. The people are a plus," he said. Cas blushed. 

"Well, it's not really a destination, per say, so we don't get many new people. But apparently we have something interesting enough for a journalist to report on."

"I'd say you have a lot of interesting things," Dean said.

"Such as?"

"Oh, I dunno." Dean scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, you're here, and you're pretty interesting. To me, at least." Cas smiled and drained his coffee mug, setting it down on the counter. 

"More coffee?" Dean offered. Cas shook his head.

"No, thanks. Actually, I'd better go. I've got some cleaning up to do before this evening."

"Aw, don't break your back on my account," he dismissed earnestly. "See you at four?" he said.

"See you at four!" Cas slid off the stool easily and returned to his booth. Meg stretched out her hand and guided him into the seat. The next time the waitress was out of the kitchen, she asked for the check. They payed for both the coffees, which she ended up drinking, and Meg practically dragged Cas out of the diner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first try at an OTP-heavy fanfic. Wish me luck and tell me your thoughts in the comments! Also, thanks to my lovely beta Natalie-check out her tumblr Jensensbluesteelface. More soon!


	2. Shout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has only one thing on his mind: Dean Winchester.

          "Y'know, I hate to say I told you so, but..." Meg said as soon as the diner door closed behind them. Cas rolled his eyes. 

"You love to say I told you so," he teased. "But you were right. He is quite nice." Meg hummed, satisfied.

"Does he have a name?"

"Don't pretend you weren't listening," Cas said. He was walking on air, beaming like a little kid. They passed the windowed front of the diner, where, inside, Dean was grinning into his coffee. 

"I wasn't consciously! Come on, don't think I was eavesdropping on your little flirt session, Clarence. I'm not that low." Cas made a little, noncommittal noise.

"His name is Dean, and he's a journalist," he said proudly, like journalist was the noblest profession in the world. They walked made the ten minute walk to her red four-door in just six, since Cas was practically bouncing along the road with energy.

"Okay. Where's he from?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"Lawrence...haven't you been to Lawrence?" she asked."Once. That was the time Gabriel had that party, remember?"

"Which one?" Meg asked.

"Good point." Gabriel was a bit wild, and he considered anything an excuse for a party. Once, when it had been raining for three weeks, Gabriel hosted a "the sun's finally come out" party at his place, complete with pool and handsome, mostly-naked strangers rubbed down with suntan oil. He smiled at the memory and dug through the pocket of his tan trench coat for the car keys, pressing the unlock button. 

"Keys," he said to Meg, and handed them to her.

"So, you invited him over...", Meg prompted, taking the keys and climbing into the car.

"Right. I invited him over because he's doing a story on the homegrown revolution, and I thought he might like to see the bees."

"Very clever of you, Casanova," she grinned. "You little opportunist, you. I hear you're cooking for him?"

"I thought you weren't eavesdropping," Cas said suspiciously. Meg shrugged, starting up the engine. 

"I hear what I hear. So what are you going to make?"

"That's what I'm wondering. I was considering making something with honey in it, but I don't know..." He used the handle on the dash to pull himself in and sit down. 

"Whatever I make, though, I'd like to run to the grocery store. As long as you don't have plans."

"Please," Meg said. "When do I ever have plans? There aren't enough people in this town for me to have plans. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm the best neighbour you could ever hope to have."

"Whatever you say. What does he look like?" he asked. Meg hummed, thinking back.

"He's around the same height as you, maybe a bit taller. He's fit, too. Like, you could bounce a quarter off..."

"Okay, Meg!" Cas laughed. "You're making me jealous."

"Scuse me, if either of us has the right to be jealous, it's me. You're the one who landed the guy."

"True. So go on. What sort of hair does he have?"

"Short, brownish. Straight. Nice hair. Hair you can trust."

"What does that even mean?"

"He just looks trustworthy. Like, he's got a honest face."

"What colour are his eyes?" Cas asked, the picture of Dean coming together in his mind. 

"Green. Like, supernaturally green. So tell me about him; what are his hobbies, what's his deal?"

"He collects vinyl," Cas said.

"Hmm. What kind?"

"Classic rock, mainly, I believe. He mentioned Led Zeppelin."

"I like him already," she said.

"That's the unfortunate thing," he said. "He has to leave soon."

"He won't want to after he tastes your cooking." She pulled up in front of one of the two grocery stores in town. "So is Greenlife good enough?"

"Yes." Meg stopped the car and Cas climbed out. He walked around to the other side, tightly hugging the side of the car.

          "This seems promising, Cas. Really. I mean, he bought you coffee. But more importantly, you let him buy you coffee. Which means you really like him. And it's all thanks to me and my fantastic peer pressure skills."

"Yay, peer pressure." 

They walked side by side, close enough for her leather jacket to brush the sleeve of his trenchcoat. 

"Exactly. I also expect to get thanked in your wedding speech."

"Slow down," he grumbled. "Nobody's rushing to the altar." 

They waited at the crosswalk until Meg tapped his shoulder and they crossed the street. 

"So what're we doing here?" Meg asked.

"I've decided to make that honeyed ham thing, so I need stuff for that, and I was going to get some pears for a pie."

"You'd better make sure you like him, because once you make him pie he's never going to leave." Cas laughed, fiddling with the hem of his dark blue t-shirt.

"I hope so," he said. Without even looking, he could pick up the smugness radiating off her in waves. 

"Meg Masters, matchmaker extraordinaire. You know what's in the recipe?"

"I've memorised it."

"Ooh," Meg said. "So what are we getting?" Cas hummed.

"What aisle are we in right now?"

"Spices, sauces and herbs," she said, glancing up at the hanging sign.

"Rosemary, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and Dijon mustard."

"Fancy." She scanned the shelves for the supplies he mentioned and chucked them in the cart.   


"Is the rosemary in little sprigs?" Cas asked.

"Yes, of course it is. Don'tcha trust me, Clarence?"

"Yes, I trust you, Meg. Enough to let you walk me across roads and drive me places, obviously. I just want to make sure everything works well tomorrow."

"It will. Have I ever failed you before?" Meg asked innocently.

"Actually..."

"It was rhetorical."

"I know. Okay, go."

"Going." Meg pushed the cart along, with Cas walking alongside. "Next we have produce." He looked up slightly in thought.

"Oranges and pears. Four of each."

"Four? Are you feeding the five thousand?" Meg asked, placing the fruits in the cart.

"Well, I'd rather have too much food than to little. And who made you in charge of fruit dispensing, anyway?"

"It's a hereditary thing. My father was a fruit policeman, and his father before him, all the way back to my great great great great great grandfather." Cas laughed.

"Do they look ripe?" he asked, innocently. Meg stared at him with a look of patient annoyance.

"Here," she said, placing one of the pears in his outstretched hand. He passed it from hand to hand in a way that seemed entirely arbitrary to anyone other than him, smelled it, and said, "Okay, next."

"You're going to do this to all the fruit?"

"Yes..." Cas said.

"We're going to be here all night!" Meg said. He sighed.

"Do they all look similar to this one?" he asked, holding up the pear. 

Meg glanced in the cart, shrugged, and said, "Approximately."

"That should be fine, then. Hand me an orange." Meg looked at him in exasperation but handed him an orange nonetheless. He smelled it, turned it over in his hand, and said, 

"Alright, good. And all the other oranges look like this one?"

"Yes! You know, your mistrust of me is becoming a reoccurring theme."

"I just want everything to go well. Is that a crime?"

"No," she said, starting to push the cart. "It will go well. Just from what I know about him, he doesn't seem like a guy who eats much of anything other than Triple Turducken Burgers from Biggersons, so unless there are actual maggots in the food, he'll have a nice time." Cas walked alongside the cart, no longer holding on to it.

"That's true. And you are surprisingly good at choosing fruit."

"That's not very surprising, considering my fruit-related genealogy," Meg said.

"Actually, it is, considering what happened to that orange tree you tried to grow in your backyard," Cas said with a laugh.

"That was a fluke. It is not my fault that the wind just happened to pick up that particular moment."

"Yes, but it is your fault that you had a campfire next to the tree and it burst into flames," Cas said, a kind of perverse happiness in his voice.

"But it did smell good when it burned."

"True."

"So what else do we need, now that we've bought the entire store's supply of pears and oranges?" Meg asked, pushing the cart past the wine and cheese section.

"Well, the ham, obviously, and probably coffee beans."

"Is that it?"

"Maybe. Did he seem like the kind of guy who'd drink alcohol to you?"

"Cas, everyone drinks alcohol."

"Except my parents," he said, pointing at the general direction that her voice seemed to be coming from. 

"Your parents named you and your siblings after angels. People who name kids things like "Castiel" and "Balthazar" aren't exactly the model of normalcy." Cas sighed. 

"You know, you're getting good at that."

"What?"

"The whole guess-where-a-voice-is-coming-from-and-point-or-look-in-that-general-direction thing. I swear, if I didn't know better I wouldn't believe you were blind. I mean, the entire time you were talking to Dean you were looking right at him." Cas' face fell. "It's a good thing," Meg said.

"But what if he doesn't know I'm blind? What if I have to tell him?"

"You were wearing dark glasses in a restaurant. Only two kinds of people do that-assholes and the blind, and since you're obviously not an asshole, you have to be blind," Meg said plainly. 

"Now are we going to get some beer or what?"

"Do you think he'd like beer?" he said, uncertainly.

"You were the one talking to him," she said.

"You said were eavesdropping."

"You and your caveats. But once again, everyone likes beer. Beer is universally enjoyed," she said.

"I suppose. Well, I know little to nothing about beer, so you can choose this one."

"Can I really? Oh, wow, Cas! That's so nice of you!" she said, mock excitedly. "You're sure you don't want to feel the bottles? Maybe smell them to make sure they're ripe?" Cas glared at her in a way that was obvious, even though his eyes were hidden behind his glasses. 

"The way you're behaving, you're not getting any leftover pie."

"There probably won't be any leftover pie," Meg pointed out. She turned the cart down the beer aisle, with Cas following. She reached up and grabbed a four pack of beer.

"Will four be enough?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Yeah. Where would you be without me, anyway?"

"I'm not even answering that," he said, with a slight shake of his head.

"That's probably wise. So ham and coffee and that's it?"

"Yes."

"Sounds delicious."

"Ham and coffee-it's what's for dinner," he said. They finished the rest of the shopping quickly because, in Cas' words, "The sooner I get home, the sooner tomorrow will come, and the sooner you can pester me about how it went." Meg compelled him into getting a weird potted succulent since it was both on sale and "like an edgier flower." As soon as they got out to her car, he started worrying again.

          "What if I put on the wrong clothes and end up looking like an idiot?"

"You'll be fine. I'll come over, but briefly because I want to stay out of your way, and make sure everything is in place."

"What if he doesn't like the food? Not everyone likes ham. He could be vegan!"

"He's not vegan. He's too normal looking to be vegan."

"But what if he gets lost? What if he gets stung by one of my bees?"

"Cas. You are going to worry yourself to death."

"That's entirely impossible."

"Just relax. It'll be great." She reached over and turned on the music, backing out of the small parking lot. Cas crossed his arms tightly and nestled into the passenger seat. He sat distractedly for the entire 30 minute drive, listening to the radio. The radio stayed on classic rock the entire drive, with Meg mentioning facts about songs she recognized so Cas could wow Dean with his knowledge of rock music. She was actually surprisingly well-versed in band facts. She knew most of the front men, and could name every member of Led Zeppelin and The Rolling Stones. By the time they arrived at Cas' house, he was so familiar with classic rock trivia he would be saying it in his sleep. 

"Alright, Casanova. Go in there and make a pie or whatever it is you have to do and I'll come over at around 12:00."  


"As long as it's not a hassle," Cas said, climbing out of the car. 

Meg handed him the bags from the driver's side door and said, "I live on the same road as you, genius. And watch the succulent! Don't stab yourself, you'll bleed all over everything, which is never a good look."

"Okay, thank you, mom."

"Anytime, honey," she replied, saccharine. He laughed under his breath and walked the practiced, paved path to his front door. He dug around in his pocket for his house key and pulled it out. It was marked with three dots of Puffy Paint, distinguishing it from his garage and hive key. He used it to label everything-food, kitchen utensils, he even put it on the doorknobs of his house and the handles of his cabinets when he first moved in. The door opened on his neat, one floor house. He walked into the kitchen, setting down the bags on the floor in front of the fridge. He knew the house so well, he didn't even have to use his cane to navigate. He gingerly reached into the bag, being careful of the succulent that lurked like a land mine. He put the food on the kitchen island, and sat down on one of the high bar stools. The house was nice; a large kitchen, two bedrooms, and two baths, with a backyard perfect for raising his bees. He took the peeler, which was equipped with a little finger guard, and started to peel the pears. He managed it without so much as nicking his hand, then sliced and cored them with equal skill. Built into the bottom of the island was a bookshelf, but he rarely used it. He only needed to refer to his braille cookbook once, and it was just to make sure of what he already knew. After they were through cooking, he put them in the fridge, made the pie dough, and went into the small neighbouring den. As soon as he turned on the TV, the phone rang. He got up, took it from its cradle (where it reliably stayed when not in use), and answered, while turning off the television.

          "Castiel," he said.   
"Little brother!" exclaimed the voice on the other end. Cas paused for a moment before answering. 

"Gabriel?" he said, eyes narrowed.

"Hey, kiddo! How's tricks?"

"Tricks are good..." he answered uncertainly. "What did you call for?"

"What, I can't just call to catch up?" In the background, Cas could hear the ambient noise of a raucous party.

"You can, but you don't usually."

"First time for everything, right, bro? Anyways, what's going on with you?" Cas could hear the noise fade into the distance and said, "Very little. I went out for lunch today." He walked down the short hallway to his room, where he sat down in the large black chair in front of his wall of bookshelves. 

"Really? With?"

"Just Meg," he said, slightly sheepish.

"Oh, no. You met someone, didn't you?" Cas sighed. How did he know this was going to happen?

"I may or may not have met a guy at lunch," he admitted reluctantly. As happy as he was to have met Dean, he knew Gabriel would just interrogate him to no end.

"And?"

"And he may or may not be coming over for lunch tomorrow afternoon."

"What's his name?"

"Dean-did Meg call you and tell you about it?"

"Come on, Meg doesn't even have my number! It's my sixth sense. We brothers can always tell."

"Speaking of we," Cas said, anxious to change the subject, "are any of our other siblings there at that wild party you're throwing?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Cas listened, relieved, as Gabriel walked, the noise growing louder and louder. It was true what everyone said; when you lose one sense, the others compensate.

"Hey, Balthy, say hi to Cas!" Cas could hear Gabriel hold out the phone to Bathlazar, who called, "Hey, Cassie!" Cas took a deep breath.

"Hello, Balthazar."

"Michael's here too, do you want to talk to him?" Gabriel asked him brightly, and then aside, "Be right there, babe!"

"No. No," Cas said firmly. Michael and he had not exactly been on good terms when they'd last spoken. "What's the occasion for the party, anyway?" he asked.

"It's the autumn equinox!" Gabe said, as though everyone should have known.

"Obviously. I don't know how I could have forgotten. So is-"

"Okay, babe! Just give me a second! Sorry, what?"

"Never mind. I'm going to leave you to...equinox, I suppose." Cas ran his hand through his messy brown hair. "Alright, Cassie. I want to hear all about your little date tomorrow!"

"I'm sure you will, Gabriel." In the short interim between Cas' words and the beep of the phone, he could hear the laughter and music of the party. A small part of him wanted to have been invited, but he would've just turned it down anyway. He did love Gabriel, and most of his siblings, but large amounts of people made him nervous enough as it was, so the last thing he wanted was to add alcohol and noise into the mix. He set the phone down on the table by the armchair and sighed.

          He reached down and ran his hand along the surface of the tactile watch on his wrist. It was already 7:23. He walked over to the desk by his bed. On it was a stack of three Braille books, his Braille typewriter, and his clock radio. He pulled Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut, out of the middle of the stack, turned on his radio, and lay down across the bed. He read for one and a half hours, and fell asleep with his cheek against the page, the little raised bumps making small indentations on his face and hand.

   
He woke up once at 1:03 in the morning, then managed to fall back asleep, but not for very long. He was out of bed by 4:00, and the first thing he did was shower. For some odd reason, he had a large mirror in his bathroom, over the sinks. He didn't need it, but he kept it anyway. There was no sense in taking it down, after all. He did his best to make his house as accessible to guests as he could. Balthazar, who he was assured had excellent taste, chose the paint colours, and Naomi, his pragmatic and reasonable sister, okayed them. She insisted in involving herself in all their affairs, like a good oldest child, and always did what Daddy told her, unlike her younger siblings. He ended up with blue, grey, and purple all over the place, which he didn't mind since he recalled them as being nice colours. He hadn't always been blind; there were 17 years when he could see, before the accident. He used the indispensable Puffy Paint to distinguish between the hot and cold faucet, and between the various bottles that crowded his shower. He didn't mind being blind (it even had upsides). If he wasn't blind, for one thing, he never would've met Meg at the clinic. When he first went blind, he refused to change his old ways. He learned Braille, and that was it. But as he realised he had no choice but to deal with it, he became more accepting. The Army found him a clinic, where he learned all the little tricks he had-that was where he learned about the uses of Puffy Paint, and about tactile watches, for instance. That was also where he met Meg. She was volunteering as a nurse at the time, and sometimes still volunteered at the Yamhill Free Clinic. He got out of the shower and hunted through the closet for his house clothes. Most of them he could tell apart from their texture, and those that he couldn't were marked with Braille on the label. He read a little more, just to pass the time, but found himself unable to concentrate what with all his excitement and nerves. He stood up from his armchair and pulled the sheets into some vague semblance of neatness on the bed. Apart from the quiet strum of a guitar on the radio, the house was silent. Cas didn't mind silence, mostly because he rarely heard it. Since he'd gone blind, his sense of hearing, and even smell, had compensated. Smell, it turned out, was actually very useful. He could sometimes tell where he was, or sometimes who was in the room, just with it alone. It wasn't always a good thing, though. One doesn't necessarily want to be able to smell everything at once. Like smell, hearing was a double-edged sword. Some sounds were incredibly annoying, like the whine of a fluorescent light or the noise of a persistent leak. Luckily, everything seemed to be in working order. He walked, zombie-like, into the den, and collapsed onto the sofa. He kept running his finger along the tactile watch-only 4:31. Were it closer to 2:00, he could start preparing lunch, but he knew that if he did it then, the food would he cold by the time Dean arrived. His anxiousness made him wish that time would slow down, but his anticipation made him will it to pass more quickly. All he could do now, though, was wait.


	3. Hey Jude

          Cas stood up from his chair, took Cat's Cradle off the bed, and tried to read, but he couldn't focus. Any other day, he would've been content to just sit and listen to music or read, but today he was so distracted he couldn't relax. He left the book on his side table and returned to the kitchen, where he made certain he had enough of everything he needed. He almost hoped he was running out of something, so he could have an excuse to go out, but he had more than plenty of supplies. His house was clean, as far as he knew, and everything he could cook ahead of time was already done; the pie dough was chilling, all the pears and oranges were sliced, and the pans and pots were already on the table. He gingerly took the succulent off the middle of the kitchen island and moved it to the dining table in the middle of the room. Only the bathroom and the bedroom had rooms of their own. The entryway led into the kitchen, which led into the dining room, which led into the small den-all arranged especially for accessibility. He set the table with two plain white china plates and silver flatware on clay coloured placemats. It was 5:21, and the sun hadn't even risen over the hilly horizon. He went back to his room and considered going back to sleep, but wasn't tired. He knew nothing good would be on TV that early and, as much as he was enjoying Cat's Cradle, he wasn't in a reading mood. He debated going outside, but knew it would be far too cold, this late in the year. It was already early November, and it got very cold in Yamhill. He returned to the den, layed down on the sofa, turned on the television, and flicked through the channels. He paused for some reason on Dr. Sexy, which he rarely watched. Dr. Sexy always made him think of Gabriel, who had wanted to be a cast member since they were little. He left it on, listening to the forced, contrived dialogue.   
"I love you, doctor."  
"Oh, Nurse Madison, you and I both know this relationship is poisonous." Cas couldn't keep from chuckling at the overdone lines and the awful acting, but nevertheless the words somehow reminded him of his "Dean" situation. It was best to not get too involved, he knew, since Dean would have to leave on Sunday, in just two days. And he had to admit, he had brought it upon himself. He didn't have to invite Dean over, much less offer him dinner. He had a knack for 'putting his foot in it', as Balthazar said. He listened to the rest of the episode of Dr. Sexy, then channel surfed again before stopping on Looney Toons. He did enjoy Looney Toons, and he had since he was a little boy. Before the accident that took his sight, he took great interest in watching Bugs Bunny evade the efforts of Daffy Duck or Elmer Fudd. He turned it into a religious allegory, overthinking it like he usually did. He cast Bugs as the clever, sometimes slightly vindictive, God-always so close but somehow simultaneously out of reach. Elmer, and the other 'villains' represented man-chasing God in a desperate attempt to understand his tricks and tactics. He rolled over on the long black sofa, back to the television. Within five minutes, and despite his lack of tiredness, he was asleep. 

          He was awoken by the chime of his doorbell. He sat up straight and ran to the door, trying to smooth his rumpled hair and pyjamas as he went. Hand on the knob, he took a deep breath and flung open the door. "Hey, Casanova. Lookin' sharp." Meg stepped inside, her boots hitting the wood floors, and scanned the large entry. "Oh, it's just you," Cas said, half relieved, half disappointed. Meg flicked on the light, which Cas kept off to save on the electric bill.  
"Just little ol' me," Meg replied.   
"Is it 12:00 already?" he asked rhetorically, checking his watch.   
"11:47. I was bored, and I knew you'd be here."  
"You're a welcome distraction," he said with a small laugh. "So what does the house look like?"   
"Good. Clean." Meg walked over to the table and adjusted the settings, straightening the forks and knives and moving the succulent further to the center of the table. "Have you cooked anything yet?" she asked.   
"I'm going to get started on the ham shortly. I don't want it to be cold."  
"Right. Are...are you watching cartoons?" she laughed.  
"I turned them on, but I fell asleep watching them," Cas explained. He stood up and walked past the sofa. "Sure you did. You love Scooby Doo. Don't deny it." In the background, cartoon sound effects played to dated sixties music. "I'm going to go check out the back of the house," Meg announced, walking down the hall to his room. "Do you think he's going to be coming back here?" Cas asked.   
"Do you want him to?" she replied, teasingly.   
"Maybe," he said with a shrug.   
"Scandalous." There was the sound of a door opening and closing as Meg looked into the guest bathroom. "You know, I've always wondered if there are people who have that job," she said.   
"Which?"   
"The Scooby Doo thing. Going after "monsters"," she said, making air quotes.  
"Like a paranormal investigator?"   
"Exactly. Sounds like a fun job."   
"If the monsters were real," Cas laughed. He heard Meg click on the bedroom light.   
"Hey, you never know. The truth is out there," she said mysteriously.  
"Thank you, Mulder."   
"Anytime. This place is spotless. How do you keep your house neater than I keep mine?" she asked.   
"Time and dedication. Also, black magic."   
"Fun. So what are you going to wear?"   
"Probably a tie and some jeans," he said, opening the closet doors.  
"Then what do you need me for anyway?"   
"I really don't know." Cas took out his favourite blue tie and draped it over his shoulder while he looked for a shirt. He didn't even need to mark it from the other ties-he didn't have many others, for one thing, and for another it was always right at the front of his closet. He threw it and a white button-down shirt on the bed, then went back into the kitchen. Meg sat down on the sofa and flipped distractedly through the channels while Cas read over the cookbook for one last time before starting to cook. Cooking, despite his blindness, was easy for him. It was a reflex, like breathing. He flew through the first part of the recipe, and, while he was at it, made carrots and finished the filling for the pie. He was back in the den by 1:12 with the ham in the oven and the warm smell of oranges and honey filling the house.

          "That was ridiculously fast, Clarence," Meg laughed.   
"Unfortunately, yes." He said, sitting down on the sofa next to Meg.   
"Unfortunately?"   
"It'll probably be cold by the time he gets here," he said sulkily.  
"Cas, one of the wonders of the modern age is a microwave. You can magically reheat cold food."   
"I suppose. I'm going to go get dressed. I'll be right back." He stood up from the sofa and walked back to his room. He turned the light back off in his room and changed his clothes before returning to the den, putting on his glasses as he went. "So what do you think?" he asked. Meg stood up from the sofa and smoothed down the collar of his shirt. "Your tie's backwards again," she said, flipping it over.   
"Oh. Right."   
"Are you going to wear your glasses?" she asked.   
"Yes," he said, sounding a little confused. "What?"  
"Nothing, nothing. Just don't feel like you have to, if you'd rather not. I mean, if this goes as planned, he''ll see your eyes eventually."   
"I know," he said. "I might take them off. I'll just see how it goes."  
They both sat back down, and she started flipping through the channels. She paused on a news report, which was talking about a series of freak storms and accidents all across Midwestern America. "These are strange times," she said melodramatically.   
"Maybe it's the apocalypse," Cas added.   
"Could be. Maybe the gates of hell-"  
"Come on," Cas said. "That's outlandish." She changed the channel again, pausing on a weird Japanese game show. "Like I said," she said, "strange times." He laughed. She channel surfed for twenty more minutes, cracking jokes about the shows. "Hey! It's Dr. Sexy!" she exclaimed. "I thought that show went off air years back."   
"No," Cas said. "Longest running drama for forty-nine years. Their fiftieth is actually at the end of this year."   
"How do you know all this?" Meg asked suspiciously.   
"Gabriel. He is obsessed with that show. He wants me to come up for the fiftieth and watch it at his house. I cannot understand why he likes it so much."   
"I've gotta admit, they don't call him Dr. Sexy for nothing," she said.   
"Please," he replied.   
"It's the cowboy boots!" They laughed. She handed Cas the remote and stood up. "Well, I should probably be gone by the time he gets here," she said. "I expect a full report and leftovers tomorrow."   
"Aye aye," he said, following Meg to the door. "Are the lights still on?" he asked.   
"Yep. It looks very inviting," she said. She walked out onto the path from the door, her boots making noise on the concrete. "Have fun!"   
"I will," he said. Once he heard her leave, he shut the door and sighed. He checked his watch-1:42. As if on cue, the timer dinged. He went over to the oven and cracked it open, the smell permeating the entire house. He shut it quickly to keep the heat in and turned off the television. He ran his hand down the length of his tie to make sure it was turned around the right way, then went further back into the den. Behind the TV, in a small nook, was Cas' record player, and the cabinet containing his small collection. He'd marked each record sleeve with a Braille label, so he could tell them apart. The closets he had to classic rock was a few precious Beatles albums, so he chose The White Album (by far his favourite), and put the first record on the turntable. The sound of the needle dropping, followed by the clear, crisp first lines of "Back in the USSR." He hummed along, starting to relax a little. Now that it was so close to 2:00, his nervousness was replaced with calm excitement. He took a deep breath and, as soon as he exhaled, the doorbell rang. 

         "Hey, Cas," Dean said when Cas whisked open the door.   
"Hello, Dean. Come inside," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Did you find the place okay?"   
"Oh, it was a breeze." He set something on the dinner table, that sounded distictly like a notebook. "The Beatles, huh?" Dean said with a appreciative smile. Inwardly, Cas scrambled.   
"You don't like them?" he asked hastily.  
"Course I do. What is this, the White Album?"   
"Yes," Cas said happily. "On vinyl. Here, sit down." He sat down on the sofa, all the way over against the arm. Dean sat next to him, not invasively close but not impersonally far away. "Can I get you something?" Cas asked.   
"I'm alright, thanks," Dean replied. "Actually, lemme get my notebook." He jumped up from the sofa, grabbed his notebook off the table, and sat back down with Cas. He clicked his pen and opened the spiral notebook. "Alright. You ready for the interview?" "That depends," Cas answered. "Are you going to try and get me to admit embarrassing secrets about my private life?" he asked melodramatically. "I'll do my level best," Dean replied. "Yes, I'm ready," Cas said with a small laugh. "Okay. First question-what got you involved in beekeeping?" he asked, leaning towards Cas.   
"Well, I was in the army for a year, at 18. There was an accident, which is how I lost my sight, so I was sent back. While I recouperated, I got really interested in bees. I know it sounds lame, but-" he said with a shrug.   
"No, it's interesting," Dean replied. "Where were you stationed?"   
"Iraq. I was a private." Dean wrote that down, too. "Are you going to put that in the article?" Cas asked, laughing slightly.   
"Maybe," he said. "Unless you don't want me to?"   
"Use your discretion," Cas said. Dean smiled.   
"Can I see the hive?" he asked.   
"Yes, absolutely. It's out here." He led Dean through the sliding glass door that opened on the backyard. In the back of the small yard was a square box, surrounded by flat rocks and sunflowers. By the door in a crate was a pair of thick gloves and a smoker. "Here, put these on," he said, handing Dean the gloves. Dean put them on obediently. "Tuck your sleeves in, too," he recommended. Dean did. "So the bees are all in there?" he asked, pointing at the box. It was lifted slightly off the ground by a short wooden stand.   
"Yes," Cas said. "The bees, by the way, are mostly Russians, with a few Italians. The Russians, I'm told, are darker, and the Italians are pale yellow. They winter well and are very docile, so you won't have to worry too much about that."   
"Good," Dean said, laughing. "I hope I make a good impression," he added. Cas chuckled.   
"They're easy to get along with. And besides, their owner already likes you."   
"That's good to hear."   
"It's good to say." Cas smiled, then cleared his throat. "This is a smoker. It acts like a light tranquilliser to the bees." He handed Dean the smoker and stepped forward.   
"So I puff them with this, right?" he asked.  
"Yes. You'll want to point it at the little slit near the bottom of the hive-that's the entrance and exit. And then I'll take out the frame, where the honey is deposited. It'll be filled with honey, but as it's winter, the bees will need it for food. I've got some already harvested inside, though."   
"Alright," Dean said. There was a rock path leading from the door to the hive, which Dean followed Cas down. "So," Cas said, "the bees are already pretty calm since its winter. Just go ahead and smoke them now."   
"Cool," Dean said. He sprayed a puff of smoke near the bottom of the hive and Cas heard the buzz of the bees slow. "Now, I'm going to lift this edge and, when I do, you've got to spray some smoke into the hive itself. Ready?" he asked  
"Yep." Cas lifted the long side of the lid to the hive and Dean puffed the smoker inside.   
"Thanks," Cas said. A few of the bees flew over to Dean, landing on his shirt and jacket sleeves.   
"Cas, a ton of bees just landed on me," he said, sounding vaguely concerned. "Should I be freaking out?"   
"No," Cas said with a small laugh. "It just means they like you." He pulled off the inner lid, then took out one of the frames. "So what does the frame look like?" Cas asked.  
"The combs are pretty filled up with what looks like wax...there's also some honey, but it looks a little grainy."   
"That happens when it gets colder out," Cas explained. "The bees live in the combs. One of these frames should have the queen on it. She's the leader of the hive. Under her are the worker bees, who gather the pollen to make the honey. Some of the bees are guards, which is why we have to use the smoker."   
"Huh," Dean said. "You weren't kidding about the whole caste system thing. Can I try some of the raw honey?"   
"Sure. It might not be very good, but there's one way to find out." Dean tugged off one glove and swept his finger through the amber coloured liquid, putting his finger in his mouth. "Man, this is awesome!" he said. Cas beamed. "You've got to try some. Here. Give me your hand." Cas held up his hand and Dean took a hold of his wrist. Even through his glove, his touch was electrifying. It sent a kind of warm chill up Castiel's spine. "Straighten out your finger a little," Dean said. Dean drew Cas' finger across the frame, which he held in his free hand. He released Cas' hand, but it almost seemed reluctant. "There," Dean said. "Try it." Cas did. He raised his eyebrows.   
"That is far better than I expected," he said, before returning the frame to the hive box and closing it back up. "Are you hungry?"  He and Dean walked back down the path, pausing at the door for Dean to pull off the gloves and leave the smoker in the small crate. "That depends. Is lunch ready?"  
"Yes."  
"Then I am starving," he replied, closing the door behind Cas. He went over and opened the oven, taking out the ham which had stayed surprisingly warm. "Can I help you, Cas?" Cas bit his lip in thought.  
"If you'd like a drink, I think there's beer and Coke in the fridge," he said. He felt a little bad, asking Dean to do that, but he had offered, and it wasn't really difficult. Cas heard the slight pop of the fridge door. "Oh, yeah, here it is. Can I grab you one?"   
Cas hesitated momentarily, then said, "Sure. Thank you."   
"Anytime." Cas set the ham on the kitchen island. "Man, that smells awesome," Dean said.  
"Thanks. Do you need a bottle opener for the beer?"   
"I got it." There was a quiet clatter of the bottle caps on the counter top. Dean handed Cas a beer, which he held in his free hand while he grabbed a knife off the block.  
"You need a hand with that?" Dean asked, concerned.  
"I've got it, I think," he said. The record player, which had been quietly playing in the background, stopped.  
"You wouldn't mind turning the record over, though, would you? It's back there in the corner."   
"Sure," Dean said, walking over to the cabinet and record player that were settled in the back of the den. "You don't mind if I snoop around in your record collection, do you?" he asked.   
"It's encouraged." He heard the cover of the record player open and, after a moment, the needle drop. There was a hiss and pop, and then "Hey Jude" began. Dean mumbled the lyrics along with the recording as he searched delicately through Cas' records. "Man, you've got some pretty good ones," he said appreciatively.  
"If they're good, they're probably gifts," Cas said, slicing the ham easily. He carried it over and set it on the table, then went back for the carrots. "You can change it, if you'd like," he said.   
"No way. This is perfect," Dean said. "My mom used to sing this as a lullaby when my brother and I were kids." Cas heard the scrape of Dean's chair and sat down across from him.  
"It's a beautiful song, isn't it?" Cas said. "Here, Dean, help yourself."   
"You don't have to tell me twice," Dean said, grabbing a spoonful of carrots. "So these were made with the honey from the hive?" he asked from behind a mouthful of carrots.   
"Yes," Cas replied. "Are they any good?"   
"Any good? Cas, this is the best food I've had in ages. I kid you not." Cas glowed.   
"Thank you, Dean. So have you gotten any other stories from the area?" he asked, taking a bite of his ham. "A few. Yours'll be the third, but definitely the best."   
"I don't know about the best..." Cas said sheepishly. "Who else did you get interviews from?"   
"One from the owner of a vegan restaurant, and one from a guy with a massive vegetable garden. I gotta tell you, for such a tiny town, you've got a lot of health nuts." Cas laughed.   
"More than our share. What's the paper you work for called?" he asked.   
"'The Huntington Bugle,'" Dean said. "It's nothing, really. There's only four people on staff-the editor, Bobby, the editor in chief and general odd job doer, Garth, a culture and human interest columnist, Charlie, and the intern, Kevin. I pick up the slack-politics, sports, anything that doesn't fit into the other categories." Cas nodded and drank his beer.   
"It sounds like interesting work," he said. "You must meet a lot of people."   
"I do," Dean said with a small laugh. "Mostly wackos, but some people are actually cool."   
"Which one am I?" Cas asked, jokingly. Dean smiled.   
"You're in a group of your own," he replied genuinely. Cas felt his ears burn and smiled wide, looking at the ground embarrasedly.  
"As long as you're in it, I wouldn't have it any other way." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is a little late and I'm incredibly sorry...hopefully it was worth the wait. As always, reviews are welcome, now more than ever since this chapter heavily features romance, which I practically never write. Thanks for being so lovely and I'll post more soon (on time this time, promise.)


	4. I'm In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he's with Dean, Cas' world becomes crystal clear.

         Cas knew he should've regretted those words, but he didn't. They were true. He'd always been level-headed, especially when it came to romance, but there was something oddly enigmatic about the stranger across the table from him, like somehow they'd known eachother all their lives. After they'd recovered from their fits of embarrassment, Dean cleared his throat and said, "So, ah, Cas, why'd you choose to raise bees, of all animals? I mean, no offence, but they're not exactly the most poplar pets."   
"Honestly, I'm not sure why. I just think they're fascinating. They're very intelligent, and they form very strong bonds within their hives, which I respect," he explained, taking a small sip of beer and trying to hide the resulting grimace. Dean smirked.  
"You don't drink very often, do you?" he asked.  
"Not exactly," Cas said. "I didn't really grow up around drinking-my parents were incredibly religious. That's how my siblings and I got our bizarre names; we're all named after angels."  
"Fitting," Dean said under his breath, Cas smiled, but acted like he hadn't heard him.  
"Dean, can I take your plate?" he asked nonchalantly.  
"Let me, Cas," Dean replied, getting up. He walked around the kitchen island, rinsed his already cleaned plate, and looked around. "You got a dishwasher, Cas?" he asked.  
"Yes. It should be..." he paused in thought. "Next to the cabinets under the sink. On the...left."  
"Aha. Here it is." He put his own plate in one of the gaps, then turned to Cas. "Hand me your plate," he said.  
"I've got it, Dean," he replied.  
"Cas..." Dean said, almost reproachfully. Reluctantly, he handed his plate to Dean. "Thank you," he said triumphantly. He opened the fridge to get a Coke, then stopped in his tracks when he saw the chilling pie dough on the shelf.  
"Is that pie?" Again, Cas panicked.  
"That depends. Do you like pie?" Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"Course I like pie! Who doesn't like pie?" Cas breathed a sigh of relief.  
"Good. It's for dessert." He slipped past Dean, who was still staring in wonder at the pie tin, filled with pears, and snatched it out of the fridge. He opened the oven and placed the pie inside gingerly. Dean followed him around the kitchen like a dog ardently looking for scraps.  
"It's going to need to cook for a half-hour, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait-" Cas said apologetically.  
"Cas, you need to understand something about me. I eat a homemade meal maybe once a month. Maybe. If this pie took three years to cook, I'd wait. Besides, it just gives me an excuse to stay here longer." _You can stay here as long as you like,_ Cas thought. All he said, though, was, "I'm glad you like it here."  
"I do."

         The record stopped again, but neither of them noticed. Cas heard Dean's footsteps across the wood floor, and over the one creaky board in front of the sofa. "C'mere," Dean said. He patted the cushion next to him. Cas walked over and sat down, a little closer to Dean than before. He picked up a book from the low coffee table in the center of the room and turned it over in his hand, feeling the bumps of Braille along the spine. "So this is Braille, huh?" Cas nodded. "Was it hard to learn?"  
"Not really. There's nothing to it. Each symbol stands for a letter of the alphabet, and like the alphabet the symbols are combined to form words. I can teach you if you like." Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that'd be awesome." Cas opened the book and flipped through the pages, finally coming upon the five small dots and one large one that indicated an A.  
"All letters are a group of dots. The basic grid is two columns of three dots each," Cas explained. "The key is where the dots are. One dot in the top left is an A, for example." He held out his hand. "Give me your hand." Dean did, without hesitation. His touch was like an electric shock, even more noticeable now that there wasn't a barrier between their hands. Trying not to show his nervousness on his face, he guided Dean's finger over the surface of the page, stopping on the A. "It's just like print," Cas said. "You add the A to the remainder of letters in the word and get a sentence."  
"So what does it say?" Dean asked. Cas read the sentence, then swallowed from embarrassment.  
"Ah, it says, "My heart is, and always will be, yours."" Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"What a coincidence," he said. "How do you remember all that?"  
"It's just like remembering the print alphabet. After a while, you almost forget there was any other way to write."  
"How do you write Braille, anyway?" Dean asked, his hand still in Cas'.  
"I have a typewriter in my room. Other than that, though, it's impossible. I can show you the typewriter, if you want to see it."  
"Yeah, why not?" Cas rose from the sofa, reluctantly releasing Dean's hand. He walked back to his room with Dean right behind him, flipping on lights as he went.  


         "So, this is it," he said, grandly gesturing at the typewriter that sat on his desk. "It works just like any other typewriter, but it types in Braille."  
"Cool. Can I use it?"  
"Sure." Dean sat down at the plain but beautiful wooden desk in the wrought iron chair and started plunking away at the keys. After a minute of clicking, he stood up. "What's it say?" Cas asked, stepping forward to take the sheet of paper out of the typewriter. "Ah, ah, ah," Dean said, putting his hand on Cas' chest to stop him going closer, "you can't read it till tomorrow morning." Cas pouted, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why not?"  
"It's more exciting that way," he said, almost teasingly. A buzzer buzzed from the kitchen, and Dean grinned excitedly. "Is that the pie?" he asked.  
"I think so, yes." They walked back into the kitchen, Dean practically running. Cas opened the oven, grabbed a potholder off the handle, and took out the pie.  
"That looks perfect," Dean said, staring at the golden-brown masterpiece on the counter like it was some peerless diamond.  
"Thank you. I'll take your word for it," Cas said. He took some plates out of a cabinet and grabbed a pie server and two forks out of a drawer. "It does have to cool, though," Cas admitted.  
"Like I said, I'll wait," Dean said. After a minute or two, Cas decided it was ready to eat and cut into it. " For you, Dean," he said, sliding Dean's slice across the counter. "Thanks, Cas," he said. He took a bite, which was followed by a stunned silence. "Damn," he said exultantly.  
"I take that as a compliment?"  
"This is the single most awesome thing I've ever eaten," Dean said. Cas blushed slightly. "It was nothing," he said dismissively. He cut into his slice with the side of his fork, anxious to see if it was as good as Dean seemed to think. Pleased, he found out that it was. _It could have been better,_ he thought, but he was proud of it nonetheless. "Have you always been able to cook like this?" Dean asked.  
"It's one of my few talents," Cas replied honestly.  
"Come on," Dean said. "Being blind-that makes it more difficult, yeah?"  
"A little. But I got used to it quickly."  
"If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?" Dean said, a little hesitantly.  
"I don't mind at all. It was an accident, in combat. There was an IED involved...but that was a long time ago," he said plainly.  
"When you dream..." Dean began.  
"Everything is in colour. It's beautiful. It's almost like I can see again. Sometimes, my dreams feel more realistic than my life." Dean laughed slightly.  
"I know what you mean," he said. There was a slight clink as he set his fork on his plate and stood up. Cas set down his own fork and pushed his plate away, just as Dean walked past. He snatched the plate off the table in the practiced manner of a career waiter. Cas stood up and went over to the sofa, where he sat down. After putting the plates back in the dishwasher, Dean came over and sat beside him. Cas reached up to brush his short brown bangs off his face, in the process knocking off his dark glasses to reveal bright, yet clouded, blue eyes.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, scrambling to get his glasses back on.  
"For what?" Dean asked with a small laugh.  
"My eyes-I know they're not very pretty, it's a side effect of-"  
"Cas," Dean said reassuringly, grabbing his hand, "they're beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On time for once in my life, part four is here! Many thanks to my beta reader, jensensbluesteelface, for enduring multiple awful drafts. Tell me what you guys think, per usual-honesty is always appreciated. Hopefully, this whole on-time-publishing thing will begin a new trend for me...I guess we'll see.


	5. Got To Get You Into My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." 
> 
> -Dr. Seuss

          Cas smiled and shook his head. "Dean, you're very kind, but-" he said, but before he could finish his sentence, Dean kissed him lightly and chastely on his lips. When Dean leaned back, Cas sat for a moment in stunned silence. When he finally spoke, all he could muster was a shocked, "Oh." Dean smiled slightly.  
"Good 'oh' or bad 'oh'?" he asked.  
"Good, good," Cas said quickly, reaching for his glasses. Dean grabbed them off the ground and said, "I've got'em." He breathed on the lenses in an effort to clean them and rubbed them with his shirt.   
"Hold still a sec," he said, returning the glasses to their rightful spot on the bridge of Cas' nose. Cas tried to suppress the blush that flooded to his cheeks every time Dean touched him, but it was useless. Dean cleared his throat and turned back around so he was facing forwards. Cas was only just then conscious if the sound of falling rain on the roof of the building-the kiss had rendered him virtually oblivious to anything that wasn't Dean Winchester.   
"Is that rain?" Dean asked.  
"I would suppose so, yes. Either that or a storm of small rocks." Dean laughed slightly, then leaned back to look out the sliding glass door.  
"It's coming down pretty hard out there," he observed, standing up. "I do not want to get caught out in that, especially not at night." Cas took the hint.  
"Perhaps you could stay in the guest room? It's already made up..." he said, getting to his feet.  
"Oh, no, Cas. I wouldn't want to impose. But hey, tomorrow I was gonna go on a hike, if the weather clears up, and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along...? For safety reasons, of course," Dean said, in an obvious attempt to play it cool.  
"Yes, I would be glad to. Although I don't believe a blind man is exactly the best hiking companion, from a safety point of view," Cas said, with a small laugh.  
"Moral support, then."  
"Would you like me to bring some foo-" Cas began, but Dean quickly cut him off.  
"No. You cooked, now it's my turn. I'm not making any promises on quality, but I'll do my best."  
"I'm sure it'll be delicious," he replied reassuringly. Dean laughed.  
"Depends on who you ask. When do you want me to pick you up?"  
"Dean, you don't have to do that."  
"Nonsense. I will be here at 10:00, tomorrow morning, with food and a picnic blanket. All you have to do is walk to the door. You don't even have to get dressed," Dean said, with a smirk Cas could somehow hear in his voice. Cas smiled.  
"I'll be there."  
"Perfect." Dean started for the door, then stopped in his tracks. "Where's the cheapest place to stay in town? In a long-term way?"  
"I don't charge rent," Cas muttered.  
"What was that?" Dean said, though Cas knew full well he'd heard it.  
"I said, 'I don't charge rent'," Cas repeated more loudly.  
"I may just take you up on that sometime," he replied. "Alright. See you in the morning?"  
"Absolutely." Cas heard the door open and shut, then collapsed in a contended heap of nerves and hormones on the floor. 

          All the while Cas was cleaning up the kitchen, he repeated Dean's name, like an incantation or an ancient prayer. He had never felt like this before; he had had little innocent crushes as a child-meek kisses under slides in kindergarten, notes passed in 6th grade that read, "Do you like me? Check yes/no." More often than not, he checked no. Gabriel and Balthazar always told him he was too finicky, though his older sister Anna said, "Just wait till the right girl comes along. You've got a right to choose." He didn't come out till he was 17, the year before he enlisted. Nobody, except for Lucian, Naomi, Michael, and his father, was terribly surprised. He got the "we'll always love you" speech from Anna and the youngest brother Andrew, the reminder, "that's fine, but remember men are dicks," from Hester, and a smile and knowing nod from Gabe and Balthazar. Lucian, Naomi, and Michael all offered their special breeds of torture-from Michael and Naomi, nonstop sermonising, and from Lucian, what Balthazar had termed 'general twatishness.' His father, after hurling insults, just ignored him, and if he had to attribute his wish to join the army to one thing, it would be that. For some reason, he was so desperate for his fathers approval, despite the pain he put him through, he'd do anything to regain his favour. Now, of course, he was older and wiser, and had learned to create almost a mental wall, blocking out the darkest parts of his past. None of that was on his mind now, of course. Now, he practically danced around the kitchen, and when he was through cleaning, he floated back to his bedroom, changed his clothes into plaid pyjama pants and an old army t-shirt, and fell asleep quickly, almost unable to wait for the morning.  


          That night, as he did most nights, Cas dreamt. This time, the dream was not about what could be, but what already was. In it, everything was in hyper-realistic, beautiful colour, just as Cas had told Dean earlier that day. It began with the beehive, and the peaceful bees landing on Dean's shoulders. The image of Dean Castiel held was one of a relatively tall, sandy-haired, attractive man, with eyes so green they couldn't possibly be real and a worn leather jacket. Then, the scene changed to the two of them sitting across from eachother at dinner, exchanging compliments. Then there was the book, and the serendipitous quote and Dean's hand in his. Next the note, then, most vividly of all, the kiss. The gentle, soft, quiet, perfect kiss that Cas could still feel on his lips like a brand. The dream ended when the door swung closed, leaving a stunned and lovestruck Cas wishing away the hours till it would open again.  


         At 8:14, he bolted out of bed to his desk, quickly grabbing the note still sitting in the typewriter. He scanned his fingers across it once, then again to make sure he hadn't misread, then again out of sheer enthusiasm. He read it out loud, reciting the short note happily to the empty house. 

"Castiel-I'm not exactly a Romeo when it comes to being romantic, but I'll give it a shot. If all goes as planned, I will see you sometime today. Hopefully, I will see you many times after that. Very few things in my life stay the same, but I'd like it if you were one of those things. I will call you as regularly as possible, and visit when I can. If you're ever near Huntingdon, know you always have a warm, if somewhat small and messy, place to stay. Without hesitation, I can easily say you are the best thing that has happened to me this year, or possibly this lifetime.  
Ideally yours, Dean Winchester"

          At the bottom of the letter was typed a phone number, which Cas memorised exceptionally quickly. He set the letter on the desk, then straightened up when he heard the doorbell chime. "Surely not," he said incredulously, starting down the hall. He reconfigured himself into what he assumed was a semblance of presentability, then opened the door.  
"So? How'd it go?" said a voice he recognised as Meg.  
"Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Great. Fantastic. Awesome." Already, the word awesome conjured to his mind his mental picture of Dean Winchester sitting on his sofa, Dean Winchester holding his hand, Dean Winchester telling him his eyes were beautiful, Dean Winchester kissing him-he stopped himself short before he got too distracted. "Come in. Sit down. Believe it or not, there's a slice of pie in the oven," he said.  
"What?" Meg said in disbelief. "How could that possibly be?"  
"We got distracted." Meg raised her eyebrows and smiled.  
"Like distracted distracted or just distracted?"  
"A little of both," Cas said, before relaying to her the abbreviated version of last night. She hung on his every word, occasionally asking a question-"what'd his hands feel like? Is he a good kisser?" and, most notably, "why haven't you married him yet?"  
"There wasn't an ordained minister," was Cas' reply. He checked his tactile watch. "He'll be here in thirty minutes," he said excitedly, leaping from his chair and bounding back to his room.  
"What? He's coming back?" Meg demanded, chasing after him like a dog after a thrown toy.  
"He's making us a picnic," he called from behind his closed door. He pulled on a greyish-blue shirt and jeans before returning to the hall for his sneakers.  
"A picnic? He cooks?"  
"He says he can't, but I refuse to believe it," he replied. Cas rolled his shoulders and straightened the hem of his shirt before looking through the stack of books on the coffee table. Happily, he finally found Sense and Sensibility, the book that, by dumb luck and chance, Cas had picked up last night to teach Dean Braille.  
"What's that for?" Meg asked from her perch on the sofa's arm.  
"I'm going to teach Dean more Braille."  
"Using a book on love? You are such a hopeless romantic," she said with a laugh. "Alright, I'll get out of your way." She stood up and made her way towards the door. "But listen, Cas, if there's a priest in earshot while you're on your little stroll, you'd better marry that man on the spot." He opened his mouth to reply, but Meg just said, "you can thank me later," before disappearing outside.  


         Two minutes later, an Impala arrived in Cas' driveway. The doorbell chimed and Cas practically flew over to open it. "Morning, Cas. You ready?" Dean asked.  
"Very," Cas replied. "What's the weather like?"  
"Great," Dean said, reaching for his hand. "Can I help you?"  
"No," Cas said, "but I'll still hold your hand." Dean smiled.  
"Lucky me," he said. Dean led him across the walkway, then opened the passenger side door. "After you," he said, gesturing grandly to the interior of the car. Cas climbed in and immediately was surrounded by smells-leather and paper and food and...was that cologne? Was Dean wearing cologne? Nobody had ever worn cologne just for him before. Cas smiled and laughed slightly at the improbable perfection of the whole affair.  
"What?" Dean asked.  
"Nothing." Dean clicked on the radio, flipping through station after station till he found one he considered acceptable.  
"This town has awesome radio stations," Dean said.  
"Thank you," Cas replied, "though I can hardly take credit. Lilith and Ruby are largely responsible."  
"Lilith? This town has someone named Lilith?" Dean said, a little shocked.  
"Everyone calls her Lily," Cas said. "This is a strange town, I'll grant you."  
"You've got that right."  
"Who have you met, so far?" Cas asked, worried that he might've had the misfortune to meet some of the stranger residents first.  
"Ah, Eve, who owns that garden, and then Abby and Alastair, who own the cafe, and Crowley, the mayor." Cas sighed. It was just what he was afraid of.  
"They were nice to you, though?"  
"Yeah, they were alright. I think Eve and Alastair are a little off their grass-fed heads, though," Dean said frankly.  
"Yes, they definitely are," Cas said with a nod and a laugh.  
"So how'd you end up here, anyway?" Dean asked. "Are you from here?"  
"Far from it. I grew up in upstate New York, in my family's house, but when I got back from the army I found it was difficult to handle all the stimulation that that kind of life bought with it. Not to mention, of course, the falling out with my family that caused tension. I chose here, of all places, because it seemed quiet and small. I never guessed that there would be so many strange residents," Cas explained.  
"Would you ever move?"  
"Maybe sometime. It would depend where I was moving, and who I was moving to," he replied, before the meaning of the question even registered. He wanted to change his answer; _yes, in a heartbeat, I can be packed in ten minutes,_ but he didn't.  
"Do you like it here?" Dean asked. Cas shrugged.  
"I suppose. I have my bees, and a home. I don't dislike it," he said uncertainly. "Do you like Huntingdon?"  
"It's alright. It's like I said yesterday-it's a little too small for me. Everyone knows everyone else. It's kind of a pain." The car purred down the long and narrow roads. Dean turned a usually sharp corner, but he did it with such ease it was hardly even noticeable. Cas nestled deeper into his seat, closing his eyes happily behind his dark glasses. 

          They sat in companionable silence, Cas content just knowing Dean was there. Before long, they were in town, cruising down the store-lined roads. Some people were out, walking around and enjoying the briskness of the fall morning.  
"You can roll your window down, if you want," Dean said. Cas did, letting in the cool breeze. He placed his elbow on the side of the car and rested his head in his hand. The first chords of a song he didn't recognise started up. Dean turned up the radio, looking over at Cas.  
"Man, this song is awesome!" Cas perked his head up, listening to the song.  
"I don't believe I'm familiar with it," he said. "What's it called?"  
"Come on," Dean said in disbelief. "You know this song. By Led Zeppelin? 'Ramble On?'" At the mention of 'Led Zeppelin,' facts flooded into Cas' head. Led Zeppelin had 4 members-Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham. The band was active from the years 1968-80, and originated in London. There were many other facts, all of which were told to him by Meg in their speed-round studying the night before last. Unluckily for Cas, of course, it was one of the few songs that did not play the previous night.  
"I've never heard it before," he said, "though I am familiar with Led Zeppelin."  
"Okay, good. I was starting to be afraid you were from some other planet or something," Dean said, relieved.  
"No, nothing as exotic as that," Cas said. As they drove through the modest town centre, the passing people would glare at Cas and Dean. Cas could feel the eyes on him, though he couldn't see them, and he knew exactly why they were looking. He didn't date-usually, he didn't really think about it-which, in the minds of all the townspeople, made him either gay or a crazy repulsive freak. He could practically sense the hostility, radiating off the people like a rotten smell off of old fruit. Cas sat back in the chair, rolling up the window.  
"What's wrong?" Dean asked, glancing over at him and seeing the concern written on his face.  
"They're looking at us."  
"Aw, come on. They're just jealous," Dean said, and waved at a particularly angry-looking sandy haired man. The man did not return the wave, instead looking daggers at the two men. Dean sighed and looked back at Cas.  
"Don't worry about it, Cas," he said reassuringly.  
"Dean, what if they do something rash?" he replied, nervousness colouring his voice. "I mean, small towns breed small minds, and small minds create fear of the unfamiliar, and that could easily lead to-"  
"Cas," Dean said, putting his hand on Cas' knee, "don't pay them any attention. We'll be out of town in a couple minutes." Cas took a deep breath and gave a small nod. He leaned back into the seat, Dean's hand still on his knee, and tried to put everything out of his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for on-time publishing, I guess. Sorry this chapter is so late, but hopefully this will not become a reoccurring thing with me. As always, of course, tell me what you think in the comments. Also, if you have anything you REALLY want to see happen, tell me that as well, and I can probably find some way to work it in. Thanks!


	6. I Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has really done it now.

         Dean was right-in 5 minutes, Cas was breathing in the clean, sweet air of the open country. "There's this park, on the top of a mountain. Someone recommended it to me, so I thought I'd try it out," Dean explained, turning down the radio.  
"I don't believe I've ever been there before," Cas said.  
"Yeah? Well, that makes two of us," Dean replied. "There's a girl who lives down the block from you-Meg, I think. She said she thought you'd like it. At first, it creeped me out a little, how much she knew, but she seemed nice enough, so," he said with a shrug.  
Cas shook his head and smiled.  
"She was the reason I spoke to you, on Thursday in that diner," he said. "She talked me into going over there and introducing myself."  
"Really? Well, I guess I should thank her when I see her again," Dean said. Cas smiled.  
"I suppose I should, as well," he said. Dean drove up a winding mountain road, navigating it so expertly Cas couldn't even tell.  
"By the way," Dean said, "I can't cook anything other than sandwiches, so I've got loads of different kinds in the bag in the back. If you don't like sandwiches, of course, we could always go to lunch in town."  
"I'm sure they'll be delicious," Cas replied with certainty. Dean smiled and shook his head. After a second of quiet, Dean reached out and turned up the radio.  
"Okay," he said, "now surely you know this one." _Finally,_ Cas thought, _a song I know._  
"Yes," he said. "This is Highway to Hell, by AC/DC." The pride showed through his voice.  
"Bingo," Dean said. He drummed on the wheel with his thumbs and sang along under his breath. "Ain't no stop signs, speed limits..." he mumbled quietly. Cas smiled. They drove down a smaller side road till they arrived at a driveway, lined by orange-leaved trees.  


          "Here we are," Dean said. "Yamhill Mountain Park."  
"We're not exactly known for our creativity," Cas said. Dean laughed.  
"That's alright," he said. "You should be known for having the one and only beekeeper/cook/angelically named resident." Cas blushed.  
"Some would argue that that is not a selling point," he said.  
"Then some need a swift kick to the shins," Dean replied. He parked the car in the small parking lot and opened his door, then walked around to open Cas'. Cas took his hand and Dean helped him step out of the car, then he picked up Sense and Sensibility off of the seat.  
"What's that for?" Dean asked. "Impromptu English lesson?"  
"Sort of like that. I was going to teach you some more Braille," Cas said. Dean grabbed the bag out of the backseat and slung it over his shoulder.  
"Awesome," Dean said. "So," he said, still holding Cas' hand, "what I'm thinking is we find a nice spot for lunch and spend the day. I wrote our article last night, and I brought it to read to you." _Our article._ Cas smiled.  
"That sounds ideal." Dean led him down a path which quickly dissolved from pavement to uneven dirt. He felt the change, but trusted Dean wholeheartedly to keep him safe.  
"Do you hike often?" Cas asked.  
"Hardly," he replied with a laugh. "No, Huntington's pretty much flat. There's not really anything to hike on. You?"  
"No. Honestly, I spend the vast majority of my days in my house or with the bees. Sometimes, Meg and I go into town, but not typically. It was a lucky accident that we happened to stop in at the same diner on the same day."  
"Yeah, you can say that again. So, Cas, lemme ask you a stupid question. Are you seeing anyone?" Dean asked. Cas, for some reason he couldn't tell, turned a vibrant shade of pink and said, "No. Not presently, I mean. But I wouldn't be averse to the idea." Dean smiled.  "Oh. Oh, good."  
"What?" Cas asked.  
"No, nothing, it just wasn't the answer I expected," Dean replied honestly.  
"You thought I was in a relationship?" he said in disbelief.  
"Yeah. It's not that surprising, Cas."  
"How do you mean?"  
"I mean, nice guy like you, good cook, smart, I just figured-" Cas' blush became deeper.  
"I'm flattered, Dean, but honestly there's no one in my town who attracts me. They're not really my type."  
"What is your type, then, Cas?" he asked.  
 _Green-eyed, pie-loving, classic rock aficionado journalists from Huntington,_ Cas thought. As usual, though, all he said was, "I think I've found it. How about you?"  
"I dunno," Dean replied with a shrug. "How would you describe yourself?" Cas laughed and hung his head, a wave of pleasant embarrassment washing over him.  
"I'm not sure," he answered.  


          They walked side by side, Cas' hand in Dean's. Sunlight filtered through the trees overhead, warming Cas' arms and face.  "I think there's a field up here," Dean said, "if you wanna sit down."  
"Sure," Cas said. They walked out into the clearing. The ground was covered with dense, soft grass that felt good under Cas' feet. Dean dug around in the bag, soon producing a blanket. He spread it on the ground, then said, "Here, Cas, sit down." Cas did, sitting right next to Dean.  "This is very nice, Dean," he said.  
"Oh, please," Dean replied. "It was nothing. Sandwich?"  
"Yes, definitely," Cas said. Dean dug around in the bag for the sandwiches, setting them out across the blanket.  
"Okay, so I didn't know what kind you wanted, so I made tons. There's PB and J and ham and cheese, and chips too."  
"Could I have a peanut butter and jelly one, please?" Cas asked. Dean nodded picking one up and placing it in his hand. As he did, their fingers brushed momentarily. Cas opened the ziplock bag and bit into the sandwich.  
"Is it any good?" Dean asked.  
"This is the single best sandwich in the world," Cas said with certainty. Dean laughed.  
"Come on, Cas," he said.  
"I'm simply being honest. This is a delicious sandwich." Dean smiled.  
"Alright, well, thank you," he said.  
"You're welcome." They sat in the grass, eating their sandwiches.  
"You want me to read the article?" Dean offered.  
"Oh, yes, please," Cas said, leaning towards Dean.  
"Okay. Do you want me to read the whole thing, or just the part about you?"  
"Whatever you'd like," Cas said.  
"Your part, then. It's the best part, after all." Cas blushed. Dean cleared his throat and began, "Castiel Milton-it is Milton, right?" Cas nodded. "Castiel Milton, resident of Yamhill, has a very unconventional pet. He raises bees. His love for bees was triggered when he returned from Iraq, after sustaining an injury that forced him to end his service. He was fascinated by the castes and behaviour of bees. The highest caste is the queen, followed by the workers and guards. Castiel harvests the honey of the bees he raises, selling it and making delicious food with it. He raises Russian and Italian bees, which are known for their docileness and tolerance for colder temperatures. While visiting Castiel, we harvested honey from the hive. We sprayed the hive with a smoker, which calmed the bees. The hive was made up of a series of panels..." Cas continued to listen to the article, but was distracted by one thing: we. We, we, we, when it would've been just as easy to use "he" or "me". Cas sat in the grass next to Dean, half listening to him read, half daydreaming. When the article was over, Dean looked over at him.  
"So? What'd you think?"  
"It was fantastic," Cas replied.  
"It was nothing. A guy could get used to compliments like that, ya know," Dean said, taking another bite of his sandwich.  
"A guy could get used to giving them, as well," Cas said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but hey. This chapter's sort of short, but I wanted to post something. Hope you guys like it, tell me what you think, etc. More soon!


	7. Here Comes The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has found his home.

         Dean smiled, cleared his throat, and said, "So, what book is that?"  
"Sense and Sensibility," Cas said. "The same book we began to read yesterday." Dean nodded.  
"I remember."  
"Do you still want to learn Braille?"  
"Yeah," Dean said. "It'd be a cool skill to have. Opens up a whole new world of, um, possibilities." Cas blushed-not because the words were flirtatious, but because of the person who was saying them.  
"I suppose it does," he replied. "So do you remember the symbol for A?"  
"Yeah. That's just one dot, isn't it? In the top...left?"  
"Exactly." Cas opened the book and set it on his knee. He scanned the page for a B.  
"Here, Dean. Give me your hand." Dean did. Cas could feel his touch throughout his entire body, overriding his brain. He could lean over and kiss him. He would, if only he had the courage. After a moment of daydreaming, however, his brain regained control, dragging him back to the real world before he could do something he thought he would regret.  
"Right. Now, a column of two dots, on the far left, indicates a B." Cas moved Dean's hand with his across the page.  
"I feel like I'm learning to read all over again," Dean said. "Was it hard for you to relearn?" Cas shrugged.  
"Not very. I was reluctant, at first, but then I visited the clinic. While I was there, I met Meg-she was a nurse. She taught me how to read Braille, along with a multitude of other things."  
"Like?" Dean asked.  
"Like using Puffy Paint on mostly everything, to distinguish between similarly-shaped objects. You must've thought I was crazy when you saw all that multicoloured paint all over my house last night," Cas said with an embarrassed laugh.  
"I didn't even notice it," Dean said, then muttered, "I was focused on other things."  
"Other things?" Cas asked, smiling slightly.  
"I really didn't expect you to hear that," Dean said.  
"I'm glad I did," he said. Dean smiled. Cas sat there for a moment more, his hand still in Dean's.  
"Oh, here," Dean said. He reached over, not letting go of Cas, and grabbed a Coke out of the bag. "I noticed the Cokes in your fridge last night, so I figured you probably liked them."  
"Very intuitive of you," Cas said. Dean opened the can while handing it to him. "Thank you."  
"Anytime," Dean replied. After a pause, he said, "Cas, can I ask you a personal question?"  
"Absolutely," he said.  
"Do you miss being able to see?" Dean asked. Cas paused, a little taken aback.  
"Always," he said. "I can remember what some things look like, but others are harder to place. The sky, for example. I know it's blue, and I can remember what blue looks like, but when I see it in my mind it's never as vivid as it is in reality."  
"That must be rough," Dean said. Cas nodded.  
"Dean?"  
"Mm-hm?"  
"Would it be too much to ask for you to describe the sky?" he asked, a little hesitantly. He hadn't seen it in so long, and he felt sure Dean would do a good job.  
"Yeah, I'll give it a shot," Dean said. "There's a few clouds-the wispy kind. One's in front of the sun, so it's not as bright, but it's still warm out. It's pale blue near the horizon, but further up it gets a little darker. There are some birds, too, but they're too far away to be seen well so they look like little black dots." As Dean talked, Cas closed his eyes and imagined the sky as he described it. Dean paused for a second, then said, "Was that what you wanted?"  
"Yes. It was perfect." Dean smiled.  
"Awesome. I've never done that before," he said.  
"You are very good at it."  
"Thanks. Maybe you can give me a call every time you want something described," he said with a laugh.  
"Sounds good to me," Cas said under his breath. Dean laughed.  

         After sitting in comfortable silence for a moment more, Cas said, "If you had to choose one goal, over all others, what would it be?" Dean thought for a second before answering.  
"I think I'd wanna see the world. On my own time, at my own pace. I mean, journalism lets me travel a little bit, but I don't usually get to visit somewhere I enjoy. What about you?" Cas lifted his eyes to the sky in thought.  
"I haven't given it much thought, per say. I know I'd like to continue to raise bees. Maybe I could move closer to my family, in Miami. And possibly get married, if I find someone." Dean smiled and nodded.  
"Sounds nice. Your family lives in Miami, huh?"  
"Yes. My oldest brother does, at least. Gabriel. His twin Balthazar lives in London, but often spends his winters in Miami. My other siblings have spread out, but I don't have a very good relationship with all of them," Cas explained, taking another sip of the Coke.  
"Man, you must have a ton of brothers and sisters," Dean said. Cas nodded.  
"I do. Thirteen, to be exact. Five sisters, eight brothers."  
"Your parents were busy people," Dean laughed. Cas chuckled.  
"I suppose. They were busy at first, when the oldest three, Michael, Lucian, and Naomi came along. After that, they kind of...dropped out. They left the parenting to the oldest three, which was not their finest moment. Of course, they found time to yell at all of us, but not the time to encourage us. Needless to say, it was far from their finest moment." Cas was rarely so honest, particularly about his family.  
"Believe me, I know all about loser parents. My mom died in a fire when I was young, and after that my dad went a little-" he made the "cuckoo" gesture beside his head, then said, "nuts. I kinda parented my brother while he was out doing God only knows what. Something good did come from all that, though. I got really good at making food from a can." Cas chuckled. He was pleasantly surprised by how similar their lives were. They both had a difficult past, with absentee parents and siblings for which they felt responsible.  "So all these siblings of yours-tell me about them. I don't think I could handle so many other kids in my family," Dean said.  
"Trust me," Cas said, "you wouldn't want to. Especially my siblings. Most of them are okay, but some of them are..." he considered how to put his next words delicately. "Somewhat irritating." Dean laughed. "Michael's the oldest. Lucian, the second oldest, is probably the most annoying. After our parents had their eleven biological children, they decided to adopt 2 others, because they considered themselves very good parents. The two they adopted, a boy named Adam and a girl, Eve, quickly replaced us. That made Lucian very jealous-understandably, of course. He's had kind of a temper ever since."  
"Wow. Dramatic," Dean said. "Are all of them like that?"  
"No," Cas said, shaking his head. "After Lucian was born, there was Naomi. She was arguably the most mature of all of us. She was...okay. She thought of her younger siblings, me in particular, like her personal project. She saw us the way someone might see an old house-falling apart in places, but fixable with some hard work. Luckily for me, between herself and I were the twins, Gabriel and Balthazar. If I had to pick favourite siblings, it would be them. They were always nice to me," Cas said. He didn't usually talk this much, this honestly, to near strangers, but Dean seemed like an exception.  
"They're the ones who live in Miami, right?" Dean asked. Cas nodded.  
"They tend to throw very loud, very wild parties, so I don't see them often."  
"We should go to one sometime," Dean suggested. Cas smiled.  
"Perhaps I'll take you up on that," he said, trying to act natural but finding it very difficult.  
"Please do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is chapter 7. I'm thinking of publishing a little more rarely-every Monday, I think. It's still pretty frequent, though, and sometimes it might be sooner. Also, I'm about to go on fall break, so I'm going to have time on my hands. If anyone has a prompt they want me to write, either put it in the comments or inbox me. As usual, thanks for reading, and tell me what you think! More (relatively) soon!


	8. The Fool on the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's broken.

         Cas wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to stay warm. The sun was beginning it's downward path, making the already brisk air that much chillier.  
"Cold, Cas?" Dean asked.  
"A little," he replied. Without missing a beat, Dean pulled off his leather jacket and draped it around Cas' shoulders. He smiled. The jacket was warm, and it smelled like leather and ink and comfort. He committed the smell to memory, not sure how many chances he'd get to enjoy it.  
"Dean, you don't have to-"  
"I'm fine," he said. "I've got long sleeves." He sighed, then said, "You ready to go?"  
"I suppose," Cas said, reluctantly.  
"Maybe we can walk around the town a little. I haven't had time to see much of it myself, much less get a guided tour." They both smiled, then Dean got to his feet and grabbed Cas' hand, pulling him up. He folded the blanket hastily and tucked it in the bag, then took Cas' hand again and led him back to the path.  
"You have to leave, tomorrow, right?" Cas asked. He felt like a child, being led around and cared for like this, though it wasn't the childhood he was used to. That childhood involved far more shouting and shattering glass and black eyes.  
"Sadly, yeah," Dean said. "A friend of mine's having a birthday party. Charlie. She works at the paper with me." Cas nodded. He remembered Dean mentioning her, earlier. They walked down the trail for a little, listening to the songs of different birds. Cas concentrated on one in particular, then said, "American Goldfinch."  
"What?" Dean asked, stifling a laugh.  
"That bird, it's an American Goldfinch."  
"Huh," Dean mused. "How do you know?"  
"My youngest brother, Andrew. We used to birdwatch-when I could, of course," he said with a self-conscious chuckle. "I needed to get out of the house, and he needed someone to spend time with, so birdwatching just seemed like the obvious answer.  
"Awesome," Dean said, sounding proud. "What do they look like?" Cas paused.  
"Yellow, I think, with black wings. They're interesting looking birds," he said. Dean looked around, then spotted the burst of yellow in the orange and gold of the trees overhead.  
"Yeah, I see it," he said. They passed the rest of the walk in this way-next a cerulean warbler (blue with white markings), then a lark (brown and white), and last a tufted titmouse (blue and white and hilarious to Dean, who couldn't help but laugh when Cas said it in such a matter of fact way). When they arrived at the car, Cas curled up in the passenger seat, with Dean's jacket still draped over his shoulders.  
"Suits you," Dean said as he started the car.  
"What does?"  
"The leather jacket. It looks good on you." Heat rose to Cas' cheeks.  
"Thank you." 

        Dean clicked on the radio, naming some of his favourite songs and drumming along on the steering wheel. The few Cas knew, he sang under his breath. When he did, Dean would look over at him and smile slightly. The drive back seemed shorter, probably because he didn't want it to end. Dean parked by the side of the road, in front of a little café. The people who sat near the window gave them dirty looks as they walked down the sidewalk, holding hands. Cas could feel their eyes on him, but he did his best to put it out of his mind, adamant to remember their day well.  
"How long've you lived here?" Dean asked.  
"Three years. This is where I came back to after Iraq."  
"Why'd you enlist, if you don't mind me asking?"  
"No, not at all. It's sort of a family tradition. Michael, the oldest, enlisted, and Naomi. Lucian, Gabriel and Balthazar all did for a year, but then stopped. I enlisted, and so did Hester, Andrew, Uriel, and Ezekiel. The only people who never did were Haley, Anna, Adam, and Eve."  
"Wow. Were any of the others injured?"  
"Only mentally."  
"PTSD, you mean?"  
"Yes," Cas replied. "PTSD from the army, combined with the trauma most of us had in childhood...but it's not seriously. I think everyone's a broken, just to varying degrees." Dean nodded.  
"Yeah, I think you're right." They walked along with a few other people, in their own world, until a trio of teenage boys with oversized jeans and hoodies bumped into Dean.  
"Sorry," Dean said as he passed.  
"Fags," one of them muttered. The other snickered. Cas heard, but bowed his head as if that would make his anger and annoyance disappear. Dean, however, didn't have the self-control. 

        "Hang on, Cas," he said, then turned to face the boys. "What was that?" he asked them. They turned back around, striding up to him. The hostility was palpable.  
"I said, fags," repeated the loudest one. "Or didn't you hear me?" Dean chuckled.  
"No, I was just giving you a chance to change your answer." All of a sudden, the taller boy stepped forward and punched Dean right in the jaw. He doubled over just for a second, but then straightened up, throwing a punch back. It hit the taller boy's stomach, and as he was reeling his friend ran to his aide, kicking the front of Dean's knee. The third boy, who seemed the smallest, ran over to Cas. Cas could hear him approaching, and had an idea of where it was he was coming from, but couldn't evade his fist fast enough. It landed right on his lip, splitting it and sending blood streaming down his chin. Instinctively, he brought his hand up to the wound, then tried to punch the boy back. The punch only barely caught his ear, but it was still enough to make him mad. The next moment, there was the ear-splitting crack of bone on bone and blood on Cas' knuckles-some his, some not. Occasionally, but too rarely to really matter, he managed to hit the stranger, and some of his kicks landed on his shins. Though he hated to admit it, he was only distantly focused on how Dean was doing. Soon, his saving grace came in the form of a fourth stranger-a youngish, dark haired girl in a thick, black knitted scarf. She was walking down the opposite sidewalk when she noticed the losing battle Cas was fighting.  
"Hey!" she shouted, running across the road. "Levi, Zach, Azazel, what the hell do you think you're doing?" At the sound of his name, the shorter one, who was holding Cas by his shirtfront, dropped him on the sidewalk and ran off, followed by the other boys. The woman continued following them down the street, still shouting at them. A tearing pain was coursing through his chest, like his ribs were being split down the sternum. Despite the blood thundering through his head, there was one person on his mind, and he was calling Cas' name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I changed the publishing dates to Mondays, but I'm on fall break and I'm kind of on a roll here, so more chapters will be published more frequently for the foreseeable future. Also note that this is the angstiest chapter, but the next one kind of makes up for it. I hope you like it and more will definitely be coming soon! Tell me what you think in the comments!


	9. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean recover from the fight and get the best kind of medicine.

         As soon as Dean had found his feet, he ran over to Cas' side.  
"Cas. Cas. Castiel!" he called. Cas could hear him, though his voice was distant, as though he was inside a tunnel and Dean was on the other end.  
"Shit," Dean hissed. "Come on, man." Dean could almost see his blue eyes moving underneath his eyelids. His dark glasses lay shattered in the road. Finally, his eyes flickered open before shutting again.  
"Hey, Cas. Stay with me, alright?" Cas nodded slightly. "Can you stand?" Dean tried to lift him to his feet, but he winced in pain and collapsed into Dean's arms. _This would be romantic if there wasn't so much blood involved,_ he thought.  
"Are you okay, Dean?" Cas managed to say. The leather jacket he still wore was sprinkled around the collar with drops of blood, fallen from his split lip.  
"I'm fine, Cas. I'm going to carry you back to the car, okay?" He nodded again. The eye that wasn't forced shut by a bruise was open now, blue as the sky overhead. Dean slipped his arm underneath his legs, scooping him up to his chest. Their breathing was still a little ragged, and Cas could feel Dean's heart thudding against his chest. Dean carried him back towards the car, holding him tightly. As they were nearing the car, running towards them was the girl in the knitted scarf.  
"Hey," she called. Dean looked up, but didn't stop. "Hey, are you hurt?"  
"We're fine," Dean shot back, his voice filled with sarcasm.  
"Listen, I'm sorry about-"  
"I really don't want to hear it," he replied, not looking at her. He walked right past her, she hurrying after him.  
"Can I call someone or something?" she offered. Dean sighed and glanced down at Cas, who tried to shift in Dean's arms and grimaced from pain.  
"Have you got someplace we could stay? Just for a minute, so we can catch our breaths?" Dean asked. Even in his state, Cas could hear the desperation in his voice.  
"The radio station's right up the road. I work there. It's a two minute walk, and there's a little green room near the back." Dean nodded.  


         "Are you Ruby or Lilith?" he asked as they walked. Cas had one arm flung around Dean's neck, and though some of the pain was subsiding, he still felt waves of agony crashing through his chest with every breath.  
"Ruby," she said. "Cas told you about me?" They walked through the entrance of a small building with all manner of antennas protruding from the roof. Dean nodded.  
"Only good things, I'm sure," Ruby said, letting the door swing closed behind her.  
"'Course," Dean said. There was a small waiting room inside, with some leather chairs and short coffee tables. Dean began to set Cas in the longest one, until someone behind him said, "Ruby, who are these people and why are they bleeding on my chairs?" Dean turned to see a blonde woman with a wide face and a white dress.  
"Oh. Lillith. You know Cas," Ruby said, intervening. Cas lifted his head at the sound of his name. "And this is Dean. Eve's little rugrats found the two of them and apparently got more than a few hits in."  
"Well, you'll have to take them to the green room. I don't want them putting anyone off."  
Ruby nodded obediently before leading Dean back to the back of the building. They arrived at a small room, filled with random but nice looking furniture.  
"Set him here," Ruby said, gesturing at a long, dark sofa. "I'll leave the pair of you alone, shall I?" she said teasingly. Dean rolled his eyes as she shut the door behind her, but Cas was glad for the privacy. 

         "Alright, Cas," Dean said, perching at the edge of the sofa beside him. "Let's get you cleaned up." He glanced around the room in search of some kind of cloth. He sighed, not finding anything, then pulled off his shirt. In the corner of the room was tucked a minifridge, which Dean opened, pulling out a water bottle. He poured some of it on the shirt, then handed the bottle to Cas.  
"Drink up," he said. Cas took a sip, but then shook his head and grimaced. His chest erupted in pain. Noticing his reaction, Dean immediately ran to his side.  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
"My chest hurts," Cas said weakly.  
"Okay," Dean said. "Don't worry about it. We'll clean you up, and then I'll take you back to your house. Alright?" Cas nodded. Dean dragged the damp shirt gently over the most bloodied spots of his face with care, sometimes brushing his fingers against Cas' skin in a way that sent shivers through every inch of his aching body. Dean treated Cas like he may break at any given moment, even though his strength was quickly returning. Dean pulled off the leather jacket and lifted Cas' shirt to get a better look at his injuries. Cas could feel the softness of Dean's hands against his sides and stomach. Even that made his breath catch for a moment. Dean pulled the shirt over Cas' head, revealing a series of ugly, purple and yellow bruises on his left ribs.  
"Oh my god, Cas," Dean said, concern colouring his voice. "I think those are broken."  
"They do feel a little broken," he said calmly. Some of his coherency was returning, allowing him to take stock of his condition. The pain in his ribs was coming and going, and the rest of his body was overcome by a dull ache. Had he been in the care of anyone else, he would've been more concerned for his health. Dean, however, made him feel safe and comfortable. "Lemme see if I can call Meg," Dean said, perching on the edge of the sofa. "I don't know how much she knows about broken ribs, but it's more than me, no doubt." Cas started to laugh, but stopped as soon as he found that his ribs wouldn't allow it.  
"You don't have to do that, Dean," Cas said.  
"I know, but I want to. It's my fault, after all."  
"It is hardly your fault," he said, moving to sit more upright against the arm of the chair.  
"Cas, if I hadn't started it with those boys, we wouldn't be in this situations."  
"Somebody had to challenge them," Cas said. Dean shrugged.  
"I guess," Dean said. "But that wasn't the time. I got you involved. I shouldn't have."  
He took Cas' hand, cleaning the blood off his knuckles. After considerable silence, Cas spoke.  


         "I don't know what I did to deserve this," he said.  
"Neither do I, but you know what they say. Bad things happen to good people."  
"True," Cas replied, "but that's not what I meant. I mean you," he said hesitantly. Dean swallowed.  
"Me?" He nodded.  
"Absolutely. Not even my brothers were this kind to me when I was a child. I've been nothing but rebellious my whole life, and I can't understand what it is that earned me someone like you."  
"I'm asking myself the same thing," Dean replied.  
"No, Dean. You deserve better than anything I could offer you," Cas said, and with his whole heart, he believed it.  
"Cas, that's ridiculous. I don't "deserve" anything," Dean said.  
"Of course you do. Everybody deserves something."  
"Everybody does include you, ya know." Cas cast his eyes to the ground. The whole situation seemed like a cruel joke-why else would someone like Dean fall in love with a friendless, blind, outcast like him? Loving him would only tie Dean down and make it impossible for him to live his life, the way he wanted to. Cas sighed, feeling almost defeated in body and mind. After a moment, Dean leaned over to Cas, lifting his chin and kissing him. Cas' eyes closed and the pain in his chest was replaced with what could only be described as a wonderful ache that extended through his fingers and hands and lips and feet. Dean cupped the back of his head in one cut-covered hand. The kiss felt precarious, like at any moment Cas would wake up from a dream, alone again. Perhaps it had something to do with the injuries they'd both sustained, or maybe it was more the setting of a semi-public place, where footsteps and voices outside were audible, but something about the kiss seemed fleeting. Which is when Cas realised what it was-his common sense, bleeding through to remind him that Dean would be gone tomorrow morning, and that it was unlikely he'd ever hear from him again. He probably does this in every town, his common sense told him. He moves from town to town and picks someone and makes them fall in love with him and then leaves them, heartbroken. But for once, Cas did something thoroughly unusual-he let himself forget all the logistics and rational thought and devoted his entire self, his entire consciousness, to one thing, one selfish and human and imperfect thing. That one thing was Dean Winchester, and there was no force that could tear the two of them apart. With the hand that wasn't tangled in his hair, Dean put his hand on Cas' lower back in a way that sent a shiver throughout his whole body. He lifted his hand to Dean's cheek, resting it against his soft and freckled skin that was coated with short stubble. He draped the other arm around Dean's shoulder, drawing him closer. He found himself getting breathless, fast, and leaned back reluctantly to take a breath. Forgetting his ribs, he tried to fill his lungs with air, but as soon as he inhaled he was reminded by another bloom of pain. His hand went to his chest, making Dean notice instantly.  
"I'm calling Meg. I'll drive you back to the house, or she can come here. Either way, something has to be done," he said adamantly.  
"Dean-"  
"Don't make me kiss you again, Cas," Dean said. _Ineffective,_ Cas thought, _as far as threats go._  
"If arguing leads to that, I have a feeling we won't be agreeing very much," he said. He was still dazed by the kiss, which had apparently turned his inner editor off entirely. Dean laughed as he fished his old phone out of his pocket.  
"Cas, I don't suppose you know her number?"  
"284-1939. Area code 666," he added. Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"Okay," he said, disbelievingly. Sure enough, though, when he keyed in the number, Meg's phone rang. Cas, who was listening closely, could make out the general arc of the conversation. As soon as Meg picked up, she shouted "Dean!" into the phone. Cas knew of the habit she had of holding her phone out in front of her and screaming into it when she got very angry, and he could tell she was doing it at that moment.  
"Hey, Meg."  
"Just what the hell did you think you were doing, getting Castiel into a fight?"  
"Word sure does travel fast," Dean mumbled to himself.  
"Ruby called me. Are you still at the radio station?"  
"Yeah," Dean said.  
"I'll be there, five minutes. Put him on," she demanded. Dean did as he was told, handing off the phone to Cas. He smiled, shook his head, and leaned on the armrest.  
"Hello, Meg."  
"Hey, Fight Club" she said, calming down considerably. "How are you?"  
"I have at least one broken rib, a black eye, and a split lip. Along with various other smaller injuries," he said, clinically. He could hear her swallow her anger.  
"Okay. Listen. Try to sleep. I'll be there soon, and when I do I'll drive you to the hospital. Alright?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. I'll see you in five minutes. Don't do anything stupid." With those parting words of reassurance, she hung up. 

        "What'd she say?" Dean asked, sitting facing him on the other end of the long sofa.  
"She'll be here in five minutes," Cas replied, stretching. "She's driving me to the hospital." Dean furrowed his eyebrows, concerned.  
"How do you feel?"  
"Alright, I suppose. A little better than before. The dopamine and adrenaline released by the kiss helped, I believe." Dean smiled.  
"If you need some more dopamine, just let me know," he said flirtatiously. Cas smiled back shyly and glanced at the ground.  
"I'm very tired, Dean," he said. His eyes were fluttering closed, but he wanted to stay awake since he knew his time with Dean was all too limited.  
"You can sleep, if you want," he suggested. "Are you comfortable?"  
"Relatively." He turned over onto his right side, and though the arm of the sofa pressed into the purple skin of his black eye, he was too tired to care. He shifted around, unable to find a position that didn't irritate some wound or another.  
"Here, Cas," Dean said, scanning the room for a pillow. Unable to find one, he said, "Can you sit up?"  
"I can. Why?" he asked.  
"You can lean on me. It should be more comfortable than just lying there." Cas nodded and sat up. It took some effort, and it hurt slightly, but he managed to nevertheless. Dean sat down in the space Cas had vacated, sitting as close to the arm rest as possible. Cas leaned back, resting against Dean's shoulder.  
"Warm enough?" Dean asked. Cas nodded, burrowing his head into Dean's shoulder. He smiled, despite his pain. Dean wrapped an arm around him, his hand resting on Cas' waist. Dean's skin was soft and warm, with his signature smell of leather and ink seemingly ingrained into it. He fell asleep quickly and easily, the same way a rainstorm begins, and part of him never wanted to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, because sadly I won't be publishing with any regularity for the month of November. You know what that means...that's right, NaNoWriMo! I'll work on my fanfics when I'm bored of my novel, and I'll try to publish on occasion, but I'll be a little busy wresting with my 50,000 word goal. If you're NaNo-ing too, add me as a writing buddy if you want (Smart Attack) and we can struggle through together. As always, tell me what you think and wish me luck!


	10. I Wanna Hold Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Clarence the angel.

          "Hey, Bruiser. Wakey wakey," Meg said. He lifted his head from Dean's shoulder.  
"Oh. Meg." He shook his head slightly, almost as though he was shaking off his sleep.  
"Yep. That's me. You took quite a beating, Cas," she observed, though she clearly took no pleasure from the statement. She knelt by the edge of the sofa, where Cas was laying.  
"You should see the other guy," Cas replied quickly. Dean laughed.  
"How long've you been asleep?" Meg asked.  
"Five minutes," Dean supplied. "Almost right after I called." Just then, the door creaked opened. Ruby, carrying two sticks of red rock candy, entered.  
"Hey, Meg," she said.  
"Hey, Ru. That rock candy for me?"  
"Maybe. If you're good." She handed Meg one of the sticks, popping the other in her mouth.  
"So I don't get any?" Dean said, resulting in a glare from the two women.  
"Have you got that ice I asked for?" Meg asked Ruby. In response, she held out a disposable shopping bag filled with ice chips. Meg took it and handed it to Cas.  
"Put this over your eye," she said. "And eat one of the pieces. It'll get you hydrated without hurting your ribs."  
"Thank you," Cas said, doing as Meg had recommended.  
"Uh huh. Just try to avoid getting beaten up again."  
"It was my fault," Dean said.  
"I know," Ruby and Meg replied in unison.  
"Alright. Well, glad to see I'm so well liked," Dean muttered under his breath.  
"You're well liked by someone," Cas said, turning to face Dean. Dean smiled, taking one of Cas' hands.  
"I think I'm going to vomit," Ruby said.  
"Have fun," Meg replied. Ruby turned on her heel and walked out of the room.  
"How long have I got, Doc?" Cas asked.  
"Relax, Clarence. You've got a broken rib or two-I'll drive you to Our Lady to get a CT scan-but those'll heal themselves. As will your black eye and your busted lip." Cas sighed.  
"Alright. Ready, Cas?" Dean asked.  
"You're coming, Dean?" Meg asked.  
"Yeah, of course. I'm the one who got him into this mess, I'm going to see to it that he gets out," he said plainly.  
"Aw," Meg said, half sarcastic and half genuine. "Aren't ya precious?"  
"I suppose," Cas said. "Let me put my shirt back on, though." Meg nodded.  
"I'm gonna go talk to Ruby. When you two lovebirds are ready, I'll be in reception."  
"Okay," Cas said. Meg walked out of the room, the wooden end of the rock candy protruding from her wicked grin. Dean pulled his shirt back on, even though it was bloodied in places. He handed Cas his shirt, which was spotted with browning blood. Cas shook it out, feeling for the tag and pulling it back on. Dean handed him back the leather jacket, which he put on quickly. The moment he smelled the comforting mix of coffee and ink, he relaxed visibly. He still held the bag of ice to his eye, the coldness offering relief from the dull ache. Dean lifted Cas to his feet, then asked, "Can you walk?"  
"I can try," he replied. He took two experimental steps, with Dean leading him out of the room by the hand. When he found that the only weakness in his knees was a result of Dean's touch, the two of them walked out of the green room and into the small reception area. Meg was sitting in one of the leather chairs, eating her rock candy and talking to Ruby.  
"You can't sit around and take her orders all day, though," she said. "You know the day's gonna come when that power starved bitch will step on your head just to give herself a little self-esteem boost." She kept the rock candy in her mouth, talking around it.  
"But if I don't stay loyal to her, I'll never work at another radio again. My reputation will be ruined!"  
"Oh, because you've been such a good little girl up till this point?" Meg teased. "Tell me, does she let you out of the closet once in a while?"  
"Meg, please..."  
"I'm serious. I mean, have you ever touched any of the equipment?"  
"I clean it," Ruby said honestly. Meg laughed.  
"Lucky you," she said. "I've gotta take Rocky here to the hospital for a CT scan. I'm telling you, putting yourself out there will do you nothing but good."  
"Uh huh. When I lose my job after I talk to Lil, I expect your sofa to crash on and multiple gallons of ice cream."  
"Oh, whatever," she said, smiling and waving away her concerns. Cas smiled. Meg was a profound preacher of tough love, though sometimes the love was often buried under copious amounts of tough. Meg stood up, opened the door, and held it for Cas and Dean. Dean led Cas through the door and out to the red four-door waiting in the small parking lot. Meg unlocked the car and climbed inside. Dean opened the back door, allowing Cas to climb inside. Cas tied up the bag of ice, setting it in the floor of the car. Dean climbed in after him, shutting the door behind them.  


         "The drive'll take about 20 minutes. Sleep if you want, but try to keep your weight on your left side," Meg said. Cas nodded, then leaned on Dean's shoulder, uncertainly at first. When he lost his sight, he lost the vast majority of his social skills-body language became irrelevant, making interaction with others harder than it already was. He'd never been popular, though the twins had tried to teach him how. They brought him to their wild parties, introduced him to their friends, and coached him in the art of flirting. In the end, of course, it never seemed to work. He didn't really mind, usually, since the twins and his younger siblings were all he needed. When he went blind, most of them rallied around him. Lucian and Michael were too busy fighting amongst themselves to notice and he was nothing to his parents but a pain in their side. Orange sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the car. Dean turned his back to the driver's side door, allowing Cas to rest his head on his chest. Soon, they were both asleep. Meg angled her rearview and glanced at them in the backseat, shaking her head and laughing to herself. In twenty minutes, Meg reached back to the backseat and jabbed the first arm she found.  
"Hey, couple of the year." Cas withdrew his arm, grumbling in his sleep.  
"Castiel," Meg said, getting vaguely annoyed.  
"What?" he demanded, his voice still in a fog of sleep.  
"Wake up. We're there." Cas sat up, then nudged Dean.  
"Dean, we're there." Dean lifted his head.  
"That was fast," he said.  
"I'm a good driver," Meg replied. She hopped out of the front seat and opened the back door. Dean climbed out, then Cas followed.  

         The three of them walked inside, into the waiting room that reeked of disinfectant.  
"You two hang back," Meg said. "I'm gonna pull some strings and get you that scan."  
"Alright." Dean found a pair of seats together and led Cas over to them.  
"You wanna sit down?"  
"Sure," Cas said, sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs. Dean sat beside him and sighed. After a moment of quiet, Cas spoke.  
"This is the first date I've ever been on," he said, half to himself.  
"Oh. Makes me kinda special, I guess," Dean said.  
"It does," Cas replied.  
"I'm sorry. I know it's kind of a crappy first date," he said, sounding a little ashamed.  
"No, I had fun." Dean laughed.  
"That makes both of us," he said. "Trust me, though. They won't all be like this."  
"Will there be more?" Cas asked, hesitantly. Part of him didn't want to know, wanted to keep believing the unlikely lie that there was a chance for them. But he knew he'd eventually find out, and now was as good a time as ever. Dean thought for a moment.  
"Do you want there to be?"  
"Yes, I do."  
"Then we can try. Who knows?" he asked. "Maybe my public will demand a follow-up piece to this article." Cas smiled.  "We'll still talk, of course. On the phone. And if any of my trips can possibly make a stop in Yamhill, they will." Cas relaxed.  
"Hey, lovebirds. It's showtime," Meg called from the service desk. Cas and Dean stood up, walking over to her side.  
"One floor up," Meg said. She led the two of them down a short hall, at the end of which was an elevator. Meg pushed the call button, then crossed her arms and waited. Soon, the elevator appeared. A man in a cap, pushing a man in a wheelchair, came out.  
"Hey, Benny," Meg said, holding open the elevator doors.  
"Meg," the man said, in a slight southern accent. "What happened to these two?"  
"Eve's kids," Meg said simply.  
"Ah," Benny replied. "Those boys put so many people in here they practically give me my check every week." Meg laughed.  
"They do, don't they?" she said. Benny nodded and pushed the chair down the hall.  "See ya round, Meg," he said.  "Yep," Meg replied, stepping into the small elevator. Dean, holding Cas' hand, followed her inside. Meg punched "1" and the elevator chimed, making Cas cock his head. In a moment, the elevator chimed again, and the three of them stepped out.  


         "Alright. Have you had a CT before, Cas?" Meg asked.  
"Yes," he said.  
"Good. It shouldn't be long." She pushed open a swinging door and entered a large room, with the CT machine in the middle and a viewing room to one side. She grabbed a hospital gown from the table by the door and handed it to Cas.  
"There's a bathroom at the end of the hall," she said. "The men's is on the left, but it's marked in Braille too." Cas nodded.  "Go get changed, and come back." He pushed opened the door and stepped into the hall. His footsteps echoed against the still silence of the hospital. He brushed his hair out of his face and stretched out his hand slightly, feeling for the wall. Once he found it, he read the Braille on the sign by the door and, finding that it said "Men's", pushed it open. He stepped inside a stall and started pulling off his clothes. He hung the leather jacket on the hook on the back of the door, then hung his shirt over the stall door. The last time he'd had a CT scan, it was right after the accident that left him blind. 

          He and a few of the other privates had decided to walk around the village where he was stationed, and maybe talk to some of the residents. It was a nice afternoon, as he remembered, on a Thursday. They were just leaving the house of a widow, who had made them some weak tea and insisted on praying over them. Even the atheist, Steven Chambers, was amused by the display of faith. They were walking down the dirt road-the four of them-when Levi, the youngest at 18 (he was really only 17, but he had no problem fudging some numbers for his country) heard a click that would prove deadly for him and detrimental for Castiel. They were well aware that the village where they were staying was dotted with IEDs, but they thought they'd dismantled them all. All was well until Levi stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened. Cas could still remember the look of absolute dread that fell over his face. He followed his first instinct and got out of the direct blast radius, though he knew he couldn't abandon Levi, and going much farther would do just that. He remembered how two of their four ran off, one for a priest and the other for a general. Some of the townspeople came out of the house at the commotion, but were ushered quickly back inside, to safety, by another private. He remembered how Levi had said that there was nothing to be done for him, but he was okay with that, and how just before he shifted his weight he said, "You'll stay with me, won't ya, Cas?" and Cas had said, "Of course, Levi." He looked back into the village to see the sun overhead in a cloudless sky, and then there was an explosion and consuming darkness. The round sun overhead against the clear blue sky was the last image in his mind, though for the first few weeks of his return, all he could see was the fear and resignation in Levi's eyes. He was told by the doctors and nurses who examined him just after the accident that something blunt and heavy-likely one of the boards of the animal hitch that was near the explosion's site-was sent hurtling through the air by the force of the blast with enough speed and force to cause optic nerve damage. Meg had described it in layman's terms when he first arrived at the clinic.  
"Picture your optic nerve," she'd said, "as a hose. If you step on a hose, the water stops. What that board did is essentially step on the hose. The brain can't receive the images your eyes are sending it. It's kind of a miscommunication." The doctors had told him he was lucky he didn't loose his memory, his ability to speak, or his life. He didn't feel very lucky.  


         After he'd been scanned and sewn up, he spent a few days in Miami, at Gabriel's. Family visited him, though Naomi deemed Michael and Lucian too volatile to spend time with a traumatised and injured person. Frankly, Cas didn't mind, since he didn't get along with either of them. He made every effort, of course, but usually there were no results. The hospital gown he had changed into sent memories of the army hospital flooding back. They were memories he'd do anything to suppress.

          He put his hand through his hair and pulled on the leather jacket, carrying his jeans, t-shirt, socks and shoes over one arm. He walked down the hall to the room marked "CT Scan" in Braille on the sign. Dean was sitting in the viewing room with a technologist while Meg waited beside the machine. Dean's voice came over a loudspeaker from the viewing room. He whistled into the microphone. Cas smiled.  
"What?" he asked, lifting his head to the apparent source of his voice.  
"You look awesome, Cas. Really pulling off the whole hospital gown look," Dean said.  
"I just got beaten up by a teenager, Dean," Cas replied. "I have a black eye, a split lip, and countless other injuries. I can't imagine how any of those things fit the description "awesome.""  
"You know, a lot of people find that kind of thing pretty attractive," Dean said. "In fact, you're speaking to one of them right now." Slight blush coloured Cas' cheeks.  
"Listen, while I'm loving the whole romantic comedy thing you've got going here, there's a small army of people just waiting for the CAT room," said the technologist languidly.  
"Oh, fine," Dean said. "Wet blanket..." he muttered under his breath. Meg chuckled. Cas took off the jacket and handed it to her, laughing quietly also.  
"You've got it from here?" Meg asked, walking out the door.  
"Yes. I think so, at least," Cas said. He lay down on the platform, waiting and listening to the whirr of machinery as he was moved through the scanner. Once he arrived on the other side, he got to his feet and sat on the edge of the platform.  
"Are you feeling alright?" Meg asked through the intercom.  
"Fine," Cas answered.  
"What happens now?" Dean asked.  
"Now, you two can skip off to wherever your little lovestruck hearts desire," Meg replied. "Though don't skip too vigorously, since somebody's got a couple broken ribs. They should heal themselves, but I'll get you some pain meds," she said.  
"Good. I'll go change, then," Cas said. He got to his feet, walking out of the room.  
"I dunno, Cas," Dean said when they met up on the other side. "The hospital gown's kinda growing on me."  
"Thank you," he said. "I wish I could see myself."  
"You sure do," Dean said under his breath.  
"What was that?" Cas asked, though he knew what Dean had said.  
"You just want to hear me say it again," Dean admonished.  
"Can you really blame me?" He walked down the hall, the thin hospital gown swooshing around his knees. He got dressed quickly, impatient, then returned to the hall where Dean waited.  
"Ready to go?" he asked.  
"Yes, I believe so. Provided there are no other tests, of course."  
"Nope. I'll drive you back to your car and from there, you can do whatever your hearts desire," Meg said, a hint of suggestiveness in her voice. She handed Dean the leather jacket, who in turn handed it to Cas. The smell of warmth and comfort replaced the acidity of the hospital air as Cas pulled the jacket on and took a deep breath. The three of them waited for the elevator, which came up shortly, unoccupied.  


         "What do you want to do?" Dean said.  
"I do not have a preference, honestly. As long as it's with you," Cas said.  
"All together, on three, 1, 2, 3, aww," Meg said, provoking an annoyed yet happy smile from Cas and a small laugh from Dean.  
"Maybe I can drive you back by your house," Dean suggested. "We can get a movie." After a pause, Cas nodded.  
"Yes. That sounds perfect. Although I must admit, I don't see movies often," he said.  
"Have you seen the Christopher Nolan Batman movies?"  
"I have not."  
"Well, then, I know what we're doing," Dean said. "You do like Batman, right?"  
"Of course. I watched the Adam West movies when I was younger, before I enlisted. My brothers showed them to me."  
"The twins, right? Gabriel and the one with a B name?" Dean said. Cas laughed.  
"Balthazar, yes. We just call him Zar. His name doesn't shorten very well," he said. It was true. Gabriel shortened to Gabe, Castiel to Cas, Andrew to Andy, and sometimes Lucian to Luci or Michael to Mikey, if you were feeling brave. Balthazar, though, had a harder time of it. At first they tried Balthy, but that was an awkward mouthful. They had finally settled upon Zar when the youngest, Andrew, was born. He couldn't pronounce Balthazar, so he'd just call him "Bafzar", which became "Bzar," which became simply "Zar." The elevator dinged and Cas and Dean stepped out, followed by Meg. Dean held Cas' hand all the way to Meg's car, even though Cas could've walked on his own. They climbed inside, Cas behind Meg and Dean in the middle seat. Meg clicked on the radio and they drove out of the parking lot.  


         "Cas tells me you collect records," Meg said, looking at Dean in the rearview.  
"Yep," Dean replied.  
"Which ones?"  
"Classic rock, mostly. My brother got me an AC/DC record for my last birthday."  
"How many siblings do you have?" Meg asked, making small talk. _She never makes small talk,_ Cas thought. For all her taunting, she obviously liked Dean.  
"Just the one. A younger brother, Sam. You?"  
"None," Meg said. After a moment, she said, "Cas, I'll bring your pain medication by your house tomorrow. If you need some tonight, though, just take some Advil and it should help. Try not to be to active, too." Cas nodded.  
"Alright. Thank you, Meg."  
"Just doin' my job, Clarence." Dean chuckled.  
"What?" Cas asked.  
"Clarence," he said. "I like it. It's fitting."  
"You understand it?"  
"Of course. Haven't you seen "It's a Wonderful Life"?" Dean said.  
"No. What is that?"  
"It's a black and white Christmas movie. An angel named Clarence comes down from Heaven to prove to a sadsack named George that his life has meaning. You know, Hallmark stuff."  
Cas nodded again, trying to puzzle out just what he had to do with an old Christmas movie.  
"Have you never seen it?" Dean asked Cas. He shook his head.  
"My parents only celebrated Christmas in a strictly religious sense. When we got older, Gabriel threw parties, but they were more about eggnog and how many girls he could lure under mistletoe than watching classic Christmas films." Dean laughed.   
"Your brother sounds interesting," Dean said.   
"You could call him that. You could also call him immature and irresponsible, though interesting fits as well," Cas said bluntly.   
"Gabe?" Meg asked.   
"Yes," Cas replied.   
"Yeah," Meg agreed. "That's actually pretty accurate. But at least he throws good parties." Meg stopped the car by Dean's Impala and let the two passengers out. Cas could walk on his own, but Dean insisted on holding his hand all the way to the car.   
Cas, of course, did not complain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! Finally! I hope you guys like it. This chapter is the most technical as it's going to get, and I did my research like a good little author, but if there's something wrong with any of the facts please let me know. Thanks and tell me what you guys think!


	11. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Parting is such sweet sorrow."
> 
> -Romeo and Juliet

         Cas settled back into the passenger seat of the now familiar Impala.  
"So, do you know where I can get a movie in this town?" Dean asked, sitting down in the drivers seat. He turned the mirror towards his face, glancing at his black eye and the cut across his nose.  
"I don't, sadly," Cas said. Dean looked around the street-it was mostly shops and small restaurants, but at the far end he could see a Bi-Lo grocery store.  
"There's a Bi-Lo at the end of the block," Dean said. "I'll bet there's a Redbox inside."  
"A what?" Cas asked. He wasn't much of a movie watcher, especially since the "watching" part was kind of a non-option now.  
"A Redbox. You can rent movies from it," Dean said.  
"Awesome," Cas said, slightly overpronouncing it. The word sounded foreign coming out of his mouth, and Dean obviously picked up on it, because he chuckled.  
"What?" Cas asked.  
"Nothing," Dean replied. "So do you have a favourite movie?" he asked. Cas paused. This required thought. He didn't watch many movies as a child, and almost as soon as he could, he joined the army, which left him little leisure time. There was one movie in particular, though, that Gabriel had shown him just before he left for Iraq.  
"I was always partial to the old Western movies," he said. "My older brother, Gabriel, made me watch them, as well as Titanic." Cas smiled, remembering how Balthazar had complained when Gabriel wanted to show him Titanic. Though it wasn't his favourite movie, he didn't dislike it as much as Balthazar seemed to.  
"I like a good Western. As far as Titanic goes...I could never really get behind it. Though I always thought Kate Winslet was cute," Dean said. He started the car and drove down the short stretch of road, to the grocery store at the far end.  
"Do you have a favourite movie, Dean?" Cas asked.  
"A few, yeah. The second Batman movie, with the Joker, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, and Godzilla. The black and white one, though, with the bad special effects. I'll show all of them to you eventually." Eventually. Maybe Cas was overthinking it, but eventually definitely suggested the distinct possibility of at least seeing each other one more time.  
"Yes," Cas said, "I'd like that." Dean smiled.  
"Cool. You wanna get out with me or you wanna wait in the car?"  
"I'll get out, I think. You can teach me how these work," Cas said, opening his door. Dean laughed.  
"I don't know if I'm sure myself, honestly," he said. He opened the other door and walked around to Cas' side of the car.  
"Got it?" he asked, offering Cas his hand.  
"I believe so, yes," Cas said, but he took Dean's hand anyway. They walked over to the small kiosk together. Cas listened attentively while Dean pressed a series of buttons before asking, "Would you rather watch the first Batman movie or the one with the Joker?"  
"The one with the Joker, I think, as it is your favourite." Dean nodded.  
"Good choice," he said. 

        After Dean had got the movie, they returned to the car. Dean spent the drive back recounting the first movie to Cas, who listened closely the whole time. When Dean was finished, Cas asked, "Will there be a test on this?"  
"Yeah," he said, "so I hope you were taking notes." Cas smiled.  
Before too long, they were back at the house. Cas unlocked the front door after teaching Dean what all the different dots on the keys represented-two dots, one on top of the other, stood for B in Braille and marked the key used to unlock the hive. Three dots, forming a top right corner, represented the door because they stood for D.  
"There's nothing else I need a key for," Cas said. They walked inside, Dean flipping on the light.  
"Are you hungry?" Cas asked.  
"I'm fine," Dean said. He knelt in front of the television, queuing up the movie in the DVD player. Cas didn't even know why he had the thing, though admittedly some movies were fun to listen to and sometimes people did watch movies at his house. (Meg watched Home For The Holidays with him every Thanksgiving since her television was small and her family was next to nonexistent.)  
"Are you sure?" Cas asked. "I was going to make myself some hot chocolate, since it is a little cold."  
"If it's no trouble, then yeah, thanks." After he'd gotten the movie set up, he walked into the kitchen where Cas was preparing the cocoa. He'd gotten the cocoa powder and the sugar out of the pantry, and was struggling to reach the vanilla extract on the top shelf of his cabinet.  
"Lemme help you," Dean offered. He reached up easily and grabbed the vanilla extract, handing it to Cas.  "Dude, this looks like a lot of work," he said.  
"It's nothing," Cas said. "I always make it like this." Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"Man," he muttered. "You're like a more attractive Martha Stewart."  
"Without the prison sentence," Cas added as he took the half and half out of the stainless steel fridge. Dean laughed.  
"Of course. So, how do you know how to do this?" Dean asked.  
"Cooking, you mean?" Cas asked, getting the measuring cups out of the drawer.  
"Yeah," Dean said.  
"I learned when I was very young. My parents were usually absent. My older brothers were too busy fighting to take care of anyone, and my sister didn't seem to have time for us either, unles it was to berate us. The twins attempted to take care of everyone, but try as they might they weren't very good in the kitchen. So I would borrow cook books from the library and sometimes the maids who worked in our house would go out and buy me ingredients. I usually prepared the food for everyone while my parents were either vanished or on trips. It kept me busy, though, and I do enjoy it," Cas explained as he measured ingredients. "Would you hand me the saucepan from the cabinet under the oven?" Dean knelt down in front of the oven and handed Cas the flat, copper coloured pan.  
"This?"  
"Yes, thank you," Cas said. He clicked on one of the burners of the stove and used the Braille numbers he'd added around it as a guide.  
"You sound like an interesting kid," Dean said.  
"You could call it that. Busy, certainly. And interesting, I suppose. Maybe "strange" might be a better fit." He stirred the newly combined contents of the saucepan with the wooden spoon from one of the drawers.  
"Naw," Dean said. "I'd've liked to know you as a kid." Cas smiled into the mixture, thin steam rising into his face.  
"Thank you," Cas said. "I'm sure knowing you would've made my life much simpler." He stirred the cocoa for a little while longer, then said, "You leave tomorrow morning, correct?"  
"Yeah, sadly," Dean said. He sounded genuinely disappointed, which flattered Cas despite himself.  "But I'll call you. Which reminds me, what's your phone number?" Cas smiled as he clicked off the burner.  
"I cannot remember the last time I was asked that," he muttered.  
"I can't remember the last time I asked it," Dean said. He took his small notepad and pencil out of his pocket and flipped it to a new page.  
"Are you writing it down?" Cas asked with a laugh.  
"'Course I am!" Dean said. "I don't want to forget it."  
"Do you carry that notepad around with you everywhere?"  
"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm a journalist. It's in the job requirement."  
"True," Cas said. "It's 462-3894. The area code's 666." Dean laughed and shook his head as he wrote the number down under the heading, "Call Cas!!!"  
"What?" Cas asked. "Nothing. I just cannot get over that area code," he said. Cas laughed. Dean tucked the notepad back in his pocket.  
"Here, lemme get some mugs down," Dean said. "Which cabinet are they in?" Cas thought for a moment, then said, "Next to the vanilla extract cabinet. On the right." Dean opened the cabinet and got two blue matching mugs down, setting them on the counter. He started to lift the saucepan off the burner, then felt Dean's hands over his.  
"I'll help you," he said. Cas very nearly lost all control of his faculties. When the cocoa was poured, he picked up his mug in still shaky hands and walked over to the small den. Dean followed him, sitting on the sofa beside him. They set their cocoa on the coffee table and Dean hit "play" on the remote control. As the trailers rolled, Dean took a drink of his cocoa.  
"Cas, this is awesome," he said.   
"Thank you," Cas said. He picked up his own mug and took a small drink. It was good, and Dean seemed to like it. He smiled and set it back down on the table, content.  


         All throughout the movie, the distance between Dean and Cas shortened. One of them would shift slightly closer, then the other, till finally there was practically no space between them. Things would be quiet and calm (Cas would hesitate to call it "romantic," though that did seem like a fitting description) and then there would be a sudden fight scene during the movie, ruining the mood. Cas did enjoy it, though. Rarely, Dean would describe a particularly good stunt to Cas. He would nudge Cas' arm with his elbow slightly, and Cas would say, "What happened?" and Dean would proceed to explain, with all the enthusiasm of a five year old Batman expert, a specific car chase or the way in which Batman just leapt from the top of that building. Cas liked it, and every time Dean would explain a scene he'd smile and listen and visualise it in his head, though he kept getting slightly distracted by visualising the speaker instead. Cas would've been a little alarmed by the occasional gunshots, since they brought back certain memories that were better left forgotten, but with Dean by his side, he felt safer. When the movie had ended, as the credits rolled, Dean turned to Cas and asked, "What'd you think?"  
"I liked it," Cas said. He did, actually. He'd always liked the superhero archetype, and Batman had always been his favourite (though Captain America was a close second.)  
"Good," Dean said. After a pause, he said, "I'm really glad I met you, Cas."  
"I'm glad you did too," Cas said. He knew where this was going, though, which made the sweet sentiments feel tinged with melancholy.  
"I'll call you soon, alright? Maybe my readers will demanded a follow up article about you," he said. Cas laughed.  
"I hope so." Dean got up from the sofa, prompting Cas to get up after him.  
"That was really good hot chocolate, by the way," Dean said. "I can never go back to the mix now."  
"Sorry..." Cas said, genuinely. Dean laughed quickly.  
"No, it's a good thing," he said. They were standing over by the door, neither of them wanting to be the first one to open it. Finally, Dean turned the doorknob reluctantly.  


         "Alright, well," Dean began. Cas rose up on the tips of his toes, lifted his face, and prayed that by some mix of luck and serendipity, he would somehow manage to guess the location of Dean's lips. Luck was on his side, as it turned out. They kissed in the night air for a moment, Dean lifting Cas' chin with one hand and holding his hand with the other. Cas took a deep breath of the ink and leather smell, then dropped back to his normal height. Dean brushed Cas' brown hair out of his eyes and sighed. Cas started to take off the leather jacket-it was so comfortable, he'd nearly forgotten about it altogether-but Dean stopped him.  
"Keep it," he said.  
"Dean, that's kind of you, but I don't want to take your jacket-"  
"You're not taking it, I'm lending it to you. I'll be back to get it before too long, anyway," he said. "Besides, you look good in it." Cas smiled.  
"Thank you, Dean."  
"Don't worry about it, man," he replied with a shake of his head. "I'll talk to you soon." He let go of Cas' hand and walked down the path to the car, leaving Cas on the doorstep. He wanted to say so many things-wait, don't leave, I think I love you, but those things would only make it harder for the two of them to say goodbye. He knew Dean had to go, of course; he'd known that from the moment they'd met, but something foolishly romantic told him that maybe if he hoped hard enough, somehow Dean would forget about his job and his friends and his other life and stay with Cas forever. If he was honest with himself, he didn't know what else he expected. Dean drove out of the driveway, waving, and called, "Bye, Clarence!" over his shoulder.  
"Goodbye, Dean," Cas called back. As soon as the sound of tires had disappeared, Cas closed the door and leaned against it.  
He was collecting his scattered thoughts when the phone rang. He went back to his room, answering it quickly.  


         "Hello?"  
"Hey, kiddo," a familiar voice, that was not Dean's, answered.  
"Oh. Gabriel." On the other end of the phone, Gabe laughed.  
"What?" he asked.  
"Nothing. I was just expecting someone else."  
"Was this someone else your date, perhaps?"  
"Perhaps," Cas said. He sat down in his black chair with his phone in his hand.  
"What's wrong, Cassie?" Gabriel asked. The background noise was simpler this time-a TV, playing the familiar theme song of Dr. Sexy. Cas smiled to himself. So this time, Gabe had called him not because he was partially drunk and feeling sentimental, like a few nights ago, but because he was actually concerned.  
"Nothing, Gabriel. He just left the house, that's all."  
"You must be really attached to this guy," Gabriel said.  
"He doesn't live in Yamhill. He lives in Huntingdon, a few hours away from here."  
"Well, was he nice?"  
"Yes, I suppose. Why the sudden interest?" Cas asked. He didn't mind it, since it was a welcome distraction from sulking around, but his brother rarely bothered to call, much less call with specific questions in mind.  
"I need to know if I need to send assassins after him," Gabe said. "Obviously." Cas smiled. Gabriel had always said that, after the few times he'd gone to parties or dances and come home talking about someone. He'd come home and he was either a heartbroken mess or a ultra-romantic optimist, and Gabriel and Balthazar would talk him down either way.  
"Oh. No. Don't do that. He's nice. I like him. He seems...righteous."  
"Righteous? Like, in the surfer way or in the Jesus way?"  
"The Jesus way."  
"Aha. Figures. So, tell me about it. All the "righteous" little details," Gabriel said. So Cas spent the next hour telling him all about Dean, and his job, and his life, and his brother. Then he talked about dinner, and the hike, but when he arrived on the fight he hesitated a little. He didn't want to lie to his brother, especially about something that resulted in multiple broken ribs, but telling the truth would paint Dean as some belligerent thug with a short temper.  
"Then, we went for a walk..." Cas said, hoping something would happen to cut the conversation short. _And...is that fire I smell, Gabriel? You'd better end this conversation right now and go investigate it!_ Sadly, of course, not only was that a huge longshot but Gabriel would just laugh, then get suspicious.  
"Okay..." Gabriel said, clearly starting to suspect something untoward.  
"And, ah, while we were walking, some teenage boys said some things about my-our-sexual preferences."  
"And?"  
"And Dean spoke to them, and, ah, I broke three ribs," Cas said tentatively. Gabriel was obviously not okay with this.  
"What? When?" he demanded. Cas swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed.  
"Dean and I got in a fight with the previously mentioned teenagers. But," Cas said hastily, "afterwards, he made sure I was okay. He carried me all the way up a hill to a radio station, where-"  
"You couldn't walk?!?"  
"That's hardly the point, Gabriel! I'm fine now. I went to the hospital with Meg. I had a CT scan. Dean gave me his jacket."  
"Oh, that's supposed to make everything okay? He broke three of your bones, but now you've got his jacket and it's alright? Unless that jacket has some kind of magical healing property, the fact that you have an article of his clothing changes absolutely nothing!" Gabe shouted.  
"He was very brave, Gabriel! He took care of me! It's more than anyone else has ever done for me, and I love him!" As soon as those words escaped his mouth, he tried to will them back in. He didn't know what he was saying-it seemed as though he was just opening his mouth and words were coming out. On the other end of the phone, there was dead silence. At least that was good for something, Cas thought.  
"You love him." Gabriel said. It wasn't a question, or an exclamation, just a calm statement.  
"Listen, Castiel," he said. _Things are serious now,_ Cas thought. Gabriel never used his full name. "If you love him, I'm glad, and I won't stand in your way. But if he hurts you again-"  
"Gabriel-"  
"-I will send the assassins." Cas smiled.  
"He won't. He's a righteous man, Gabriel."  
"I'll take your word for it. So, he carried you to a radio station?" Gabriel asked, calming considerably.  
"Yes. We went back to the Green Room-"  
"Ooh," Gabe said suggestively  
"Gabriel," Cas replied, with a roll of his eyes that was audible in his voice. "We went to the Green Room, and he helped me clean myself up."  
"Sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno," Gabriel muttered to himself.  
"What?" Cas asked, smiling.  
"Nothing. Go on." So Cas proceeded to tell Gabriel how they'd kissed, and then gone to the hospital. He told him about the whistling while he was in his hospital gown, to which Gabriel replied, "That's a good sign. If he whistled at you in a hospital gown, imagine what he's gonna think of you in actual clothes."  
"True," Cas said. He told him about the cocoa, and the movie, and Dean describing all the scenes. Finally, he told him about the doorstep kiss, and how he ended up with Dean's jacket. At the end, Gabriel was quiet for a minute before he said, "He doesn't sound totally evil."  
"He's not. And besides, you're not one to judge the caliber of someone else's choice of dates. If I have to bring up-"  
"Oh, dear God, don't," Gabriel said. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go look up the actual definition of the word righteous. But if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he will not live to see tomorrow."  
"Alright, Gabriel. Thank you."  
"For what? I called you and essentially berated your boyfriend for an hour and a half." Boyfriend. Nobody had ever referred to someone in relation to Cas like that.  
"It was a good conversation."  
"I do my best," Gabriel said. "Alright, Cassie. I gotta go. It's the season premier of Doctor Sexy." Cas laughed.  
"Alright. Goodbye."  
"See ya." After Gabriel hung up, Cas returned the phone to the receiver, went back to the den, and fell asleep on the sofa to watch the season premier of Doctor Sexy and enjoying the intoxicating smell of ink and leather ingrained into Dean's jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of my favourite chapters yet. I hope everyone likes it. The next chapter should be published soon. I already know it's going to be called All My Loving, referring to the Beatles song. (Read the lyrics if you want, but they're kinda spoiler-y.) Let me know what you think! More soon!


	12. All My Loving

          "So tell me about Batman night," Meg said. It was Sunday, early in the afternoon. Meg had dropped off some pain medicine for Cas, which he'd accepted gratefully. The pain was subsiding, for the most part, but sharp movements or the slightest brush against his bruise-covered side would send the ache flooding back.  
"There is not much to tell," Cas answered. They were sitting at the dining room table, side by side, eating reheated waffles Cas had made himself for breakfast.  
"I made us some hot chocolate. We watched the movie. He gave me his jacket. We kissed. He left," he said.  
"Yeah, okay," Meg said dismissively, "but that's the Cliffs Notes version. I have absolutely nowhere to be all day today. You can take all the time you need. So spill." Cas spilt, almost verbatim what he'd told Gabriel over the phone. When he finished the story, he said, "That's the second time I've told that story in two days."  
"You should type it up," Meg suggested. "You can hand it out to strangers. Like a business card of love." Cas laughed. "Has he called you yet?" Meg asked, dragging a square of golden brown waffle through the syrup that coated her plate.  
"No," Cas said.  
"Don't worry about it," she said.  
"I'm not worried about anything." He was. He wasn't afraid Dean wouldn't call, he just wanted to be sure Dean made it back to Huntingdon safely. The drive was long, after all, and he'd been told it was dangerous at night.  
"Done?" Meg asked.  
"What?"  
"Are you finished with your plate?" Meg repeated, annunciation every word to make her meaning perfectly clear.  
"Oh. Yes. I'll get it."  
"No, you will not. Sit down. Actually, go lie down on the sofa."  
"Meg-"  
"You need your bed-rest. Now, you can go lie down or I can make you." Cas sighed and walked over to the long, black sofa while Meg bussed the plates. Meg was like the mother he never had, always keeping an eye on him. When they'd ,et at the clinic, Cas was still angry, and rightfully so. God, who's very existence he was questioning, had took his sight and his friend in one fell swoop. Meg had not done what every other person he'd talked to did, which was clap him on the back and say, "Don't worry. It gets better." Instead, she'd said, "This sucks. But there's stuff you can do to make it suck less." At first, Cas had been sulky, but after a week or two, he was accustomed to his new life. 

          He and Meg talked for a little while-they discussed the nuances of the Doctor Sexy season premier, and Meg mentioned she'd been offered a raise at the clinic.  
"Nothing big," she said, "but I might be able to afford a larger TV so I don't have to invade your home every November."  
"I don't mind an occasional home invasion," Cas said. "It's not as though I have conflicting plans for that day, anyway." Which was true. Though Gabriel loved a good party, he never threw one on Thanksgiving. He'd point out that it didn't really make for a good party, to which Cas would reply, "that's never stopped you before," and they'd both get a good laugh out of it because they both knew it was true. Meg stayed until her shift began, then left after assuring Cas that Dean would call.  
"His phone's probably on the fritz. Maybe he lost it. I mean, he may have gotten you into a fight, but he seems like a good guy." Cas agreed, optimistically.  
Monday passed uneventfully-no phone call, not the slightest sign of life from Dean. Tuesday, Cas got his mail from his doorstep and was a little confused to find a letter, personally addressed to him, with Braille on the envelope. Usually, Meg would come over on most afternoons to do what she described as "eating Cas' food and reading his mail." She'd go letter by letter and read him the contents, which made having secrets virtually impossible ("So according to this order confirmation notice, Clarence, you got me every season of Doctor Sexy to date for Christmas."  
"Please, Meg, those are not for you."  
"Well then who are they for? Because your brother already has every season, and you don't like them enough to buy all of them. So thank you in advance. You don't even have to wrap them now.") The letter was addressed to him, from the town of Elk River, from the resident Dean Winchester. Cas tore into it excitedly, like a kid with a Christmas gift. It was typed in Braille, of course, everything written in perfect form. 

         "Cas-", it read, "I'm sorry I haven't called. I've been trapped in Elk River since Monday. Apparently, this town contains the worlds largest corn maze, but no cell phone signal. I was sent to write an article on it, though I think it was more about wanting to hear about how embarrassingly lost I got and less about someone's actual interest being peaked by ten thousand shrivelled stalks of corn. But I did find a Braille typewriter (this is a weird town, I'm telling you) at the local library and immediately thought I could write you a letter. I hope I've formatted everything right. Charlie found some YouTube videos about reading Braille, which I watched when I got back. They seem to help with my reading it. Which is why, if you write me back, I wouldn't mind if you wrote in Braille. It'll take me a while to figure it out, maybe, but I'm sure I'll catch on sooner or later. Also, the rest of the staff at the paper is creepily excited that I've met someone (I told Charlie, who told Kevin, who told Garth, who told Bobby. Word travels fast, especially when you work with people whose job it is to talk.). They want to know all about you, and have asked me to ask you some questions, such as: what is your favourite Beatles song, have you ever been stung by one of your bees, and do you prefer Star Trek or Star Wars? I know the questions are a little strange, but I figure since it's innocent curiosity, I'd at least let you know. Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you didn't think I'd dropped clean off the face of the earth or something. 

See you soon,  
Dean Winchester."

        At the bottom of the letter was typed an address, with the label, "my house." Dean wanted him to write back! Cas was ecstatic. He didn't mind the odd questions from the other reporters or the fact that he couldn't call Dean for a few days-any news was good news, as far as he was concerned, and the part of him that was a shameless romantic actually preferred letters to phone conversations. He put the letter on his desk with the note from their first dinner together and resolved to write him back. He turned on his vinyl (one of his few remaining Elvis records) and sat down at the desk to type his reply. After multiple revisions, he finally had something he was at least marginally proud of. 

"Dean, 

I'm sure you navigated the corn maze well. My siblings and I attended corn mazes often when we were younger; we spent some of our summers in Pennsylvania, where corn mazes are very popular. We always made very quick work of them, usually because Andrew or myself would climb on Gabriel's shoulders and guide us around the maze. It's lucky you were able to find a typewriter in Elk River. I, by the way, will be typing all my letters in Braille, as per your request. It was kind of you to learn, and you will get the hang of it before too long. I hope our article was well-received. I don't mind the questions at all. My favourite Beatles song is probably either Hey Jude or I Will. I got stung by one bee, once, when I first started beekeeping. I can't blame the bee, though, since I didn't really know what I was doing. Star Trek and Star Wars both have their high points. I like The Next Generation more than the original series, though I was often compared to Spock when I was younger. The Star Wars movies featuring Luke Skywalker and Han Solo (who I used to have a small crush on) were better than the prequels, and Star Trek wins overall, I think. That's just my opinion, though. I'm glad your fellow reporters were interested in our relationship, but if they get too nosy, just tell them I am an FBI agent undercover as a blind civilian. That should quell some of their curiosity. 

I miss you already. Perhaps I can convince Crowley, the mayor, to build a slightly larger, article worthy corn maze here in Yamhill. Or maybe the other reporters would be curious enough about me to read a whole article on us. Either way, though, I'm glad you have not dropped off the face of the Earth. 

Yours,  
Castiel Milton." 

         He grabbed an envelope out of his desk drawer, putting the letter inside, along with the original letter indicating the address, and took his cane off of the small hook by the door, where it had hung untouched ever since the trip to the diner. He walked quickly down the street, using the sidewalks almost exclusively, to Meg's house. She was only three doors down from him-he lived in the cul de sac at the end of the road, which made it simple to get to her house from his since there were no roads to cross. Once he'd made it to her house (he counted the homes he passed using the posts of their fences), he knocked excitedly on the door. Meg answered it, a toothbrush protruding from one side of her mouth.  


         "Cas!" she exclaimed when she saw him. "What are you doing here?" She took his arm and guided him inside.  
"He wrote me a letter," Cas answered dreamily, walking into her small and messy house.  
"What?" Meg asked. She walked into her small kitchen, spitting out the toothpaste in the sink and leaving the toothbrush in a cup on the counter.  
"Dean. He wrote me a letter."  
"Ooh, romantic," Meg said. "Maybe he was inspired by all that Pride and Prejudice the two of you read." Cas laughed. "So you want me to read it to you?"  
"You don't have to," Cas said. "It's in Braille." Meg's eyes widened, and not because of the espresso filled coffee she drank every morning to get her through the graveyard shifts at the hospital, where she normally worked.  
"He learned Braille to write to you?" Cas nodded.  
"He even wants me to write back in Braille," he said. "He told me he needs the practice reading it." Meg smiled.  
"That's great, but did you just come over here to make me jealous, or do you have an actual purpose? Cause I work at the hospital this morning, and there are lives that need saving," she said, half jokingly.  
"I need you to address the envelope for the benefit of the postman. Dean's address is written at the bottom of this." He handed Meg the envelope and the letter.  
"Can I read it?" Meg asked. Cas considered this.  
"Does it matter what I say?" he asked.  
"Not very much, no. But I still want you to feel like your voice is being heard."  
"Then no, you cannot read it," Castiel answered.  
"Cool," Meg answered, and began to skim the letter with her finger.  
"Aw!" she said when she finished reading it. "He's like your own personal Mr. Darcy, except he skipped the whole "being an asshole" part." Cas laughed.  
"Yes, I suppose you could say that," he said.  
"And just because you two are almost sickeningly cute, I'll even mail it for you."  
"Oh, how could I even go on without you?" Cas asked sarcastically. He fiddled with the foam on the end of his cane.  
"You couldn't," Meg answered. "Now you go home and wait for your letter from Darcy. I have a raise to pick up." She handed Cas back the letter from Dean, pocketing his newly addressed reply.  
"That's why you're up so early," Cas said.  
"Can you blame me?" Meg asked. "Do you want a ride or can you skip back to your house?"  
"I will walk, maturely, thank you."  
"And then once you get home, you'll dance around a little and gossip to all your little friends."  
"Meg, I've already spoken to you and to Gabriel. There is no one else I can tell who won't either best me up, laugh in my face, or sermonise at me for two and a half hours about my wicked ways. And I speak from experience on all fronts," he said. Meg opened the door for him, led him outside, and hopped in her car.  
"Alright," she said, leaving the door opened so they could talk. "I'll wait til you're down the street considerably before I leave so I don't turn you into lovesick roadkill."  
"That is much appreciated," Cas said, starting down the road. He made the quick walk back to his house, beaming the whole way back. He was still wearing Dean's leather jacket, breathing in the saturated smell that reminded him of the past few days. They felt like dreams, almost unbelievable. Just like always, he was willing to look past the bad parts-the fight, their brief arguments, the hell he'd undoubtedly be given by his oldest siblings-and see only the positive points about the whirlwind of a weekend.  

         When he returned to his house, he read Cat's Cradle, listened to a few episodes of Nova (one of his favourite shows), and cooked himself some spaghetti before showering and returning to the den. He read and re-read the notes from Dean before going to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter. It's a little short, but I wanted to publish something. Part 13 (Please Mr. Postman) should be up in the relatively near future. Tell me what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading and more soon!


	13. Please Mr. Postman

          Over the next few days, Cas and Dean wrote back and forth like clockwork. Even when Dean returned to his home in Huntingdon, and could still call Cas, he wrote him letters all the time. Dean would write him on Monday, and Cas would reply later that same day. It would take a day for the letters to travel back and forth, so Dean would receive Cas' reply on Wednesday. Cas would get Dean's letter on Friday, then Dean would call on Sunday to check in. Their letters were short, especially those sent by Dean, but Cas loved receiving them nevertheless. The letters were usually bland; most of the time, they were usually about what was happening in their small town (in Yamhill, Abby was running for mayor against Crowley-"the first, and likely last, person to do that in a long time," Cas had said in the letter) or what was going on in their families (Cas' little brother, Andrew, was re-enlisting). Sometimes, Dean would spend whole letters detailing how he missed Castiel-"It feels like a part of me is missing," one of them said. "I don't feel whole when I'm not with you." The sign-offs got progressively closer, as well. At first, they were things like, "Talk to you soon," or "I'll call you tomorrow," but then they morphed into, "Yours," and later, "As always," so that before too long, they mentioned love and forever more often then not. 

          October passed in a blur of Braille and envelopes, with Cas practically camping out by his mailbox. Near the end of October, Cas was sitting in the den, watching the animal behaviour shows on Animal Planet, when his phone rang. Since he met Dean, he and that phone were practically inseparable.  
"I don't want to miss his calls," he'd explained to Meg when she discovered that he was having his home phone calls forwarded to his cell phone.  
"So what you're saying is, this guy has basically reduced you to a sixteen year old girl?" she'd teased. Cas answered the home phone eagerly, snatching it off the couch cushion next to him, and was a little disappointed when Gabriel responded.  
"Cassie!" he said. "How're your ribs feeling?"  
"Hello, Gabriel. They're fine. According to Meg, they're largely healed."  
"Coolio. So listen, I'm throwing my Halloween party, as always, and I'm inviting you, as always," Gabriel said. Cas thought for a moment. He only rarely went to Gabriel's parties, and if he did, things seemed to end poorly. But now, he had Dean, and somehow that made him feel...well, safer isn't exactly the word, he thought. More ready to take risks. And if Dean would go with him, there was no question about his answer.  
"You can bring a plus-one," Gabriel said temptingly. Cas paused.  
"Can I call you back?" he asked.  
"That sounds promising," Gabriel said. "Sure."  
"Alright. Give me about fifteen minutes."  
"Okay, baby brother. Talk to you soon." Cas hung up the phone, then keyed in Dean's number from memory. The phone rang two nerve wracking times, then was answered. 

          "Dean Winchester," the familiar voice said.  
"Hello, Dean. It's Castiel."  
"Hey, Cas! How's it going?" Cas could hear the smile in the tone of his voice.  
"Good. Are you busy Halloween night?" he asked.  
"Oh, nothing that can't be moved around. Why?"  
"My older brother throws a Halloween party every year. It's a relatively big deal-almost like our family's equivalent of Thanksgiving. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go with me to the party," Cas said. He couldn't deny that he felt a little shaken by calling Dean, and asking him, and even the idea of actually attending the party.  
"I'd love to, Cas. Where is it?"  
"At Gabriel's house. In Miami. I was thinking we would drive down together, attend the party, and return the next day."  
"Yeah, that'd be awesome. Actually, why not make a week of it?" Cas furrowed his eyebrows.  
"How do you mean?" he asked.  
"Well, Huntingdon's on the way to Miami, so maybe we could leave a few days early and make a pit-stop. I mean, everyone here's just dying to meet you, and that way, we'd spend more time together," Dean suggested.  
"Yes," Cas said, trying not to squeal from excitement. "I think that would be great. Awesome, even." Dean laughed.  
"Cool. I'll pick you up tomorrow, alright? We'll get to Miami a day or two earlier than we would otherwise-do you think we could stay at your brothers house?"  
"I can't imagine why not," Cas said. "I'll call my brother and tell him our plan."  
"Okay, good. I guess I'd better get packing," Dean said. Cas smiled.  
"As should I. I'll talk to you soon, then."  
"Alright, Cas," Dean said.  
"I miss you."  
"You won't have to for long. Call me back after you talk to him, okay?"  
"I will, Dean." Suddenly, Cas' phone beeped. "Gabriel's calling me. I'll be right back."  
"Okay. Bye, Cas."  
"Goodbye." Cas reluctantly hit the "flash" key on his phone, switching calls. 

          "Finally," Gabriel muttered.  
"What?" Cas asked. He stood up from the sofa and walked back to his room, dragging his rarely used suitcase out from under his bed.  
"You talked to that boyfriend of yours for a very long time," he said.  
"Is there anything wrong with that?" Cas replied, a little defensive.  
"No, no," Gabriel said. Then, after a moment, "You didn't say he wasn't your boyfriend that time." Cas smiled slightly at the realisation, until a looming worry crept into his mind-was Gabriel wrong? He'd always been fairly perceptive, especially when it came to relationships (he hadn't had one that lasted more than a few days himself, of course), which made Castiel think that perhaps he was right. Perhaps they were dating. But then, did a few letters back and forth and a few chaste kisses constitute that kind of relationship?  
"Cas..." Gabriel said. "Still there?"  
"Yes, of course. Just lost in thought. Dean said he would be glad to accompany me to the party."  
"I knew I liked him!" Gabriel said.  
"You didn't yesterday," Castiel pointed out.  
"Ah, whatever. That was then. So you're coming down?"  
"Yes. 2 days before the party, actually. We're taking a road trip. He wants me to meet his friends."  
"Wow. This is getting serious," Gabriel said.  
"I'm meeting his friends, not his mother," Cas replied.  
"I know. It's more serious than your other relationships, though."  
"Gabriel, I've never had any other relationships."  
"Touché. So when am I getting to meet this Prince Charming?"  
"Thursday, I was thinking. We're leaving for Huntingdon tomorrow, where we'll spend Wednesday, so we should arrive in Miami late Thursday."  
"Alright. And I suppose you're going to want to stay in my house?" Gabriel asked, feigning annoyance.  
"Yes, in one of your five guest rooms," Cas answered with a note of sarcasm in his voice.  
"Point taken. You're both dressing up, right?"  
"Gabriel-"  
"No. You are dressing up. You can do some couples thing or something. And besides, costumes have a lot of good uses-"  
"Gabriel," Cas said again, cheeks reddening.  
"I'm just saying," Gabriel said innocently.  
"Maybe. If Dean wants to."  
"Which he will. I'd better go get everything ready, then."  
"Okay. We'll be there Thursday."  
"Yes, you said that."  
"I'm just making sure you remember."  
"Cas, I don't have short term memory loss. I can handle it, you know."  
"I know. I need to call Dean back."  
"You know, why not just tape the phone to your ear so you can talk to him all the time?" Gabriel suggested, teasingly. Not a bad idea, Cas thought.  
"That seems a little ridiculous."  
"People have done stranger things for love, you know."  
"Yes, Gabriel, I know."  
"Alright. Well, I'll let you call Prince Charming back."  
"Thank you," Castiel said sarcastically.  
"See ya." Once Gabriel had hung up, Cas hastily keyed in Dean's number. 

          "Hey, Cas," Dean said.  
"Hello, Dean. How did you know it would be me?" Cas asked.  
"Lucky guess," Dean said, and Cas smiled. "So you talked to Gabriel?"  
"Yes. He said it would he fine if we arrived Thursday."  
"Good."  
"He wants us to dress up," Cas admitted, hoping Dean would think the idea was ridiculous.  
"Awesome!" Dean said excitedly. Cas groaned inwardly, but remembered what he had told Gabriel. "If he wants to."  
"You think we should?"  
"Course, man! That's the best part of Halloween!"  
"I suppose. I haven't dressed up in a while...not since I was a knight for Halloween when I was eight."  
"Aw," Dean said, then added mischievously, "I wonder if your brother has pictures." Cas shuddered at the thought of Gabriel showing Dean all the humiliating pictures of him when he was younger.  
"He does," Cas said, "but if I can do anything about it, you will not be seeing them."  
"Oh, come on," Dean said. "I'm sure they're all good ones."  
"I wouldn't speak so soon," Cas laughed. "What time are you intending on getting here?"  
"I'd like to beat the traffic on the highway...is 9:00 too early?" Dean suggested.  
"9:00 sounds perfect," Cas said. The shorter time between now and then, the sooner I can be with Dean again, Cas thought.  
"Awesome. I'll call you tomorrow when I'm on the way."  
"Alright. I'll see you then. Goodbye, Dean."  
"See ya, Cassie." Cas hung up, replaced the phone on its cradle, and started packing his suitcase for the first time in a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little belated, especially since Halloween has already come and gone, but here is the 13th chapter of Blind! I hope everyone likes it. In other news, I'm writing a second Destiel fic. I don't want to spoil anything, but it will be considerably angstier than this one. I should have the first chapter finished by the end of the month. Thanks for reading and more soon!


	14. Drive My Car

          At 9:10, someone knocked on Cas' door. He bolted off of the sofa, where he was watching Godzilla, as per Dean's recommendation, and waited for the voice to say, "Cas, it's Dean." At this, he opened the door, grabbing his bag from the ground beside it as he did.   
"Hey," Dean said. "I know I'm a little late, I just got stuck in traffic. You weren't waiting, were you?" he asked apologetically.  
"Of course not," Cas lied. He had, in fact, sat down on the sofa right next to the door at 8:45, just after Dean had called, and waited there since. But he wasn't about to tell Dean any of that.  
"You ready?" he asked. Cas could hear the smile in his voice, as if he could see it on his face.  
"Absolutely," Cas said. He slung his bag over his shoulder, locked the door behind the,, and took Dean's hand. Dean led him down the path from his door to the car, opening the passenger side door for him.  
"We need to stop by Meg's house on the way out," Cas said. "I need to drop of my house keys, since she'll be looking after it for me." Dean nodded.  
"3853, right?" he asked, stopping the car in front of the slightly disheveled house.  
"Yes, that's it. Can you reach the mailbox?" Cas asked.  
"Yeah," Dean said, taking the proffered keys. The window rolled down, and Dean leaned out to replace them.

          Once they'd driven out of Cas' neighbourhood, Dean said, "Everyone's excited to meet you, ya know." Cas smiled at the ground.  
"I hope so," he said. "Who will I get to meet?" Dean shrugged and switched the station on the radio.  
"It depends on who's busy, I guess. I mean, we'll get there tonight, and probably leave in the morning and head for Florida then. Are we dressing up, by the way?" Cas sighed.  
"Do you want to?" he asked.  
"Only if you do."  
"Well, I usually don't, but if you'd like to," Cas said. He hadn't dressed up in a long time-not since he was a kid, which was a long time ago.  
"You know, if you keep being so polite, we are never going to get anywhere," Dean said. "Now, as long as you don't mind too much, we are going to dress up for Halloween. It'll be fun and you'll be gorgeous and I don't want to hear anything else about it." Cas laughed. _Gorgeous._  
"I don't know about "gorgeous," Dean, but as long as you're dressing up as well, it can't be that bad," Cas said.  
"That's the spirit, Cas. It'll be great," Dean said. "What's the party going to be like?" Cas shrugged.  
"Loud, probably. With lots of dancing and alcohol and loose women."  
"Loose women?" Dean repeated with a laugh.  
"Yes," Cas said. "What?"  
"No, nothing. I just haven't heard that phrase since...well, I haven't heard that phrase ever." Cas smiled.  
"Sorry. I'm told my vocabulary is a little strange at times," he said.  
"Don't apologise," Dean said. "I think it's nice."  
"Do you?"  
"Sure," Dean said, emphatically. "Do you dance?"  
"No. I can't," Cas said. He'd never really tried before, but he could only assume that he wouldn't be very good. Still, though, the question flattered him.  
"Can't or won't?"  
"Both," Cas answered. "I've never really found a partner."  
"You've got one now," Dean said, "so long as you want one."  
"Of course I want you," Cas said, instantly noticing his mistake.  
"Freudian slip?" Dean asked with a smile. Cas blushed and licked his lips.  
"I suppose so," he answered quietly. "Now who's got the big vocabulary?"  
"It's just further proof we're cut out for eachother," Dean said. _We were cut out for eachother, weren't we?_ Cas thought. He'd never really bought into the "made for each other, love at first sight" thing, especially not as he got older, but Dean was beginning to make him rethink all of that.

          The drive to Huntingdon was practically perfect-long and slow, with absolutely no traffic and endless good conversation. They talked about books they'd both read, and Cas talked about the movies he'd watched at Dean's recommendation.  
"I watched Godzilla earlier, by the way," Cas said.  
"What'd you think?" Dean asked, glancing over at him. He was leaning his head on his hand, legs folded tightly one atop the other  
"It was interesting. Most of it was just roaring and gunfire," Cas answered. Dean laughed.  
"Yeah, that sounds about right. Maybe we'll watch another movie tonight." Cas nodded.  
"Yes, I'd like that," he said. After a few hours, they stopped in a diner, where they picked at their food and soaked up the sounds and smells of a restaurant. 

          "I can't remember the last time I was on a proper road trip," Cas said.  
"Are you having fun?" Dean asked between bites of his hamburger.  
"I am," Cas replied, sipping his Coke. The ice clattered against itself as he set the glass back down onto the table, sending almost invisible bubbles popping to the surface.  
"I'm glad," Dean said, wiping his mustard covered fingers off on a napkin. "Man, you've got ketchup all around your mouth," he laughed.  
"I do?" Cas grabbed a napkin out of the dispenser and set about attempting to clean it off, which was far easier said than done.  
"Yeah," Dean said, "which is especially surprising since you ate your hamburger with a fork."  
Cas laughed embarrassedly and said, "It seemed messy."  
"It was, apparently. Here, you've almost got it. Other side." Cas moved the napkin according to Dean's slightly vague directions, but continued to miss the stubborn last spot.  
"Let me," Dean said, leaning over the table. He wiped off the last of the ketchup, reminding Cas just how soft his skin was, and his hand rested on Cas' cheek for a moment before he withdrew it, reluctantly.  
"There," he said. Cas smiled.  
"Thank you."  
"Please. I didn't mind, at all. You ready to burn some rubber?" Dean asked.  
"Yes, I am," Cas answered. "I hate to ask this, but-"  
"How much longer?" Cas nodded. "Not long at all. Thirty minutes, maybe? Why?"  
"Nothing," Cas said as Dean counted out the bill (plus a tip, which he asked Cas for help on calculating) out and set the money on the table. "I'm just interested to meet your friends." Dean smiled.  
"They're alright," he said, offering Cas his hand. He accepted it (gladly) and waked hand in hand out of the diner with Dean.  
"You'll probably like them. The only one I'm a little hesitant about is Bobby. He can be a little..." Dean searched carefully for the right word, "...crotchety at times."  
"Don't worry," Cas said, "I'm sure he can't be too bad." They returned to the car and, within the hour, arrived at Huntingdon. 

          "So, what do you want to do first?" Dean asked. Cas shrugged.  
"I don't know. You live here-what's fun?" he asked, closing the new book he'd been reading. Over the course of their correspondence, Cas and Dean had discovered that they both read all the works of Kurt Vonnegut-or, almost all of them. Neither had read "Breakfast of Champions," but they both wanted to, so they each bought a copy of the book and read it together, like what Cas had called "an exceptionally small, yet far more enjoyable, book club."  
"Honestly, not much. I'm not in town enough to go out a lot, since I travel so much with my job. We could go by the office, maybe, and you can meet some people," Dean suggested.  
"That sounds perfect. What are they like, these friends of yours?" he asked.  
"Good. Nice. Excited to meet you. I mean, I've known you for almost a month and it's still all they can talk about. Especially Charlie."  
"The intelligent one? The redhead?" Cas clarified. He'd been keeping very good track of every one of Dean's friends, enemies, and acquaintances-he didn't really know many other people, so there was no competition for remembering names.  
"Yep. She's been trying to set me up since I met her, but she's never managed it. So now she's determined to show you just how awesome I am," Dean said with a short laugh.  
"And the rest of them?" Cas asked, trying to prepare himself for the meeting. His social skills were never quite up to par (he was almost surprised when Dean said in a letter that he was interesting to talk to), so of course new people always made him nervous.  
"Well, Kevin's pretty quiet. He'll probably just say hello to you and then sneak off to his computer. Although he's really interested in beekeeping. Asks me about it all the time. He wants to learn Braille, too. He's kind of an overachiever, but he's nice to have around the office," Dean said. "Bobby's kinda cranky, though he's happy to see that I've met someone. Garth's a little...weird. He's alright, once you get past the whole "asylum escapee" exterior. The thing about him is, he knows all there random facts. Some are interesting, others are-" he paused, looking for the right word, "-less so. Hopefully,you can meet Sam sometime, and Jo. But Sam doesn't live around here-he moved to California for law school and just kinda stuck there. Jo should be around, though. I'll call her when we get to the office."  
"Good," Cas said. "I think your friends and I will get on well."  
"I hope so," Dean said. The drive to Dean's office was short, down the near empty roads and tree-lined streets. Before long, they arrived at the tall, plain office building.  
"This is it," he said. "The Huntingdon Bugle HQ." Cas smiled.  
"The best newspaper on this side of the equator."  
"It's not official yet," Dean said, "but thank you for the nomination. Ready?"  
"Definitely," Cas said, opening his door. Hand in hand, they walked inside, out of the brisk fall air. 

          "Good morning, Dean," the woman they rode the elevator with said. "Is this Cas?"  
"Good morning, Lizzy. Yeah, it is. Cas, this is Lizzy. She's our temp receptionist," Dean said.  
"He's cute," Lizzy said. "I'm jealous." Cas blushed.  
"Thank you," he said. "Although I'm spoken for at the moment." Dean smiled.  
"Damn right, you are," he said, and kissed Cas on the cheek, making his blush redden even further. The elevator dinged and the doors slid apart.  
"Everyone's already here, except Kevin. Bobby sent him for coffee." Dean laughed.  
"Is he in his office?" he asked.  
"Yeah. Working on tomorrow's edition," Lizzy answered with a nod before walking out of the elevator and down a side hallway. Cas and Dean stepped out onto the second floor, which was filled with desks in the middle of the room and offices down both sides. At one desk sat a red haired girl in a flannel shirt and jeans, typing feverishly on a sticker-covered laptop,  
"Dean!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet and abandoning the laptop. "You're back."  
"Yep," Dean said. "Charlie, this is Castiel-"  
"I know who this is," Charlie said, in almost an offended tone. "Garth, Cas' here!" Cas smiled. He was unfamiliar with such celebrity-people recognising him on sight, strangers complimenting him- _but then again,_ he thought, _this whole situation was unfamiliar; wonderfully, fascinatingly unfamiliar._ A loud rustle of paper emanated from one of the offices, and a shortish man with thin brown hair and satellite dish ears came out.  
"Hey, Dean," he said, walking towards the three. "How was the drive?"  
"Awesome," Dean said. "Cas, this is Garth. He's on the paper with me."  
"Nice to meet you," Cas said. Garth nodded.  
"Yeah, you too," he said.  
"So, tell us about how you met Dean," Charlie said. "Come sit down." She closed the laptop on her desk and dragged over a few more chairs for Dean and Cas.  
"Well," Cas said, sitting down at the desk next to Dean, "there's not really very much to tell. I was at lunch, back in Yamhill, and we started talking. He told me about his article and I invited him over and-well, you know the rest."  
"It was lucky he asked me, cause I never would've had the guts," Dean said. Cas smiled.  
"I find that kind of hard to believe," he said. "You are the one who started talking to me originally. And the second date was your idea."  
"It was a team effort," Dean said.  
"So Cas, is Dean any good at Braille?" Charlie asked.  
"Very, actually," Cas said. "His grammar is good, and that's really the hardest part. I was kind of surprised, to be honest, that he is as good as he is without any formal teaching."  
"Yeah, you can thank YouTube for that," Dean said.  
"And his Braille typewriter," Garth said.  
"Garth, that was supposed to be a surprise," Charlie scolded  
"Surprise," Garth said weakly.  
"Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, I might as well tell you, Dean, Cas-everyone in the office chipped in and bought you a Braille typewriter so you don't have to drive for a half hour to type up the letters," Charlie said.  
"You had to drive?" Cas asked. He'd always assumed there was a typewriter in Huntingdon Dean could use, but the fact that he went to the trouble made the letters even more valuable.  
"Yeah," Dean said. "I didn't want to tell you cause I knew you'd tell me not to go to the trouble."  
"I would've," Cas said. "But I don't need to any more." He smiled and  
"Thanks, guys," Dean said. "You didn't have to do that-"  
"Don't thank us," Charlie said. "Thank Bobby. It was his idea in the first place." Dean smiled.  
"Where is the old man, anyway?" Dean asked.  
"Back in his office still. Though I figured he would've come out to meet you when you got here," Charlie said.  
"I'll get him," Garth said, standing up from his chair.  
"Okay, so the two of you have been dating for...?" she asked.  
"A month and two days," Cas said readily.  
"Feels like shorter," Dean said.  
"Time flies when you're in love," Charlie said. Heavy footsteps alerted the three to the arrival of a grumpy looking man with a reddish grey beard and a truckers cap.  
"Bobby!" Dean said, standing up and walking over to him. Dean wrapped his arms around him, which brought an embarrassed yet happy look to Bobby's face.  
"This your boy, Dean?" Bobby asked, when Dean released him.  
"Yeah, this is Cas. Cas, this is Bobby, my editor," he said. Cas smiled. He had never been anyone's anything before, much less someone's "boy," but if it felt like this he didn't mind it in the least.  
"Good to meet you, Bobby."  
"Glad to see Dean's finally settled on someone." Dean almost laughed.  
"Trust me, Bobby, this is not settling," he said. He sat down beside Cas, who held his hand tightly.

          They stayed there, all five of them (six when Kevin arrived with arms full of coffee), talking about eachother and themselves and their lives. The general consensus was that Cas was perfect (if a little shy), for Dean and overall, and that the next person who would fall in love would be Bobby, which was good because, as Dean said, "It'll improve your mood, which is good cause it sure needs some improvement." Bobby had some choice words for him then, but they were said without serious malice. After 2 hours, Cas yawned, and then Dean yawned, and then they were sent packing, with a new Braille typewriter still in its box and renewed self-esteem.  
"They were crazy for you," Dean said as they got into the car.  
"I know," Cas said. "I was kind of surprised."  
"Surprised by what?" Dean asked.  
"Well, their instant love for me, for one."  
"I wasn't," Dean said. "You're awesome. Who wouldn't like you?" Cas smiled and looked at the ground.  
"That's very flattering," he said. "You are also awesome." Dean shrugged off the compliment and said, "Home, then?" _Home._  
"Absolutely, Dean."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is kinda late, but the next one will be posted very soon...Thursday, if not before. Thanks for reading and enjoy!


	15. A Hard Day's Night

          Dean's house was only a few minutes from the office, which was lucky because Dean was just itching to open the typewriter.  
"I can't believe that was Bobby's idea," Dean said. "I mean, he doesn't even like to buy things for the staff Christmas party, and yet he's hauled off and decided to buy us a typewriter."  
"It's nice," Cas said. "He was not as bad as I feared, actually."  
"Who, Bobby?" Cas nodded. "Yeah, he's alright. He was in a good mood today, too. I think Ellen asked him out."  
"Ellen...the owner of that bar, right?"  
"Yeah, that's the one. You've got a mind like a steel trap, d'you know that?" Dean said, looking proudly over at Cas.  
"Thank you, Dean. As do you." They drove for a little while longer, with the radio turned up, before Dean said, "So, sleeping arrangements."  
"What of them?" Cas asked.  
"Well, we're almost there, so I figured we'd get them sorted now. There's a guest room, which I cleaned out for the most part, but it gets a little cold in there sometimes. The sofa's available, but it's kinda small. But hey, if you get cold, there's always my room," Dean said. Cas smiled and considered taking him up on that. 

          Dean's house was unimpressive from the outside (though there was a tiny garden under the windowsill, which Cas had inspired him to plant). Parked in the driveway was an old-looking red car, with the hood up and tools strewn around.  
"I'm fixing it up for Bobby," Dean explained. "Like I don't already have enough to do." Cas laughed. The backyard was slightly larger, and a deck ringed half of the house.  
"I'll carry the typewriter if you carry your bag," Dean said.  
"But then how would I hold your hand?" Cas said, half joking, half sincere.  
"Just hold onto me," Dean suggested.  
"What, wherever I choose?" Cas said, quietly.  
"Be creative," Dean replied suggestively. Cas blushed.  
"You weren't meant to hear that," he said.  
"I'm glad I did," Dean said. "I like it." Encouraged, Cas reached out and set his hand on Dean's hip. At first, it had been entirely utilitarian, so Dean could guide him up the walk to the house, but in point of fact he would've done that, whether he needed it or not. Dean raised his eyebrows and smiled.  
"So forward, Castiel," he said, feigning chastisement.  
"Oh, forgive me," Cas teased back.

          "So, it's kind of small," Dean said, unlocking the door, but was cut off mid-sentence by a shout from inside the house.  
"Surprise!" a tall, long-haired man exclaimed.  
"Sam!" Dean said, setting down the box. Cas followed him inside, closing the door behind him.  
"When'd you get here?" Dean asked.  
"Just two hours ago. I flew in," Sam said.  
"How'd you get in?" Dean asked.  
"You gave me a copy of your key, genius," a blonde girl said. The house, as it turned out, was full of people-all the newspaper's staff, as well as people Cas hadn't even met. The town had come out in full force to celebrate Dean's new relationship, it seemed.  
"Sam, Jo, this is my boyfriend, Cas." _Boyfriend._ This was the second time today Cas had gotten a new title. He could get used to this.  
"Hey," Sam said, shaking Cas' hand. "I've heard all about you. Only good things, of course."  
"I should hope so," Cas said.  
"Scuse us for a sec," Dean said. "I'm gonna go give Cas a mass introduction so I don't have to repeat myself all night. Come on, Cas." Dean took his hand and led him through the crowd of people to a low coffee table, sitting in front of a sofa.  
"I'll give you the grand tour when the house is a little emptier," Dean said. "For now, stand on this table." Cas followed Dean up on top of the small table, from which Dean called, "Hey! Everyone!" The room fell silent. "So I don't have to say this all night, yes, this is Cas."  
"Hello," Cas said, a little meekly.  
"He's awesome and you should all be jealous." Cas blushed and bowed his head.  
"That is all. Thanks, and don't leave your shit all over my house." The guests laughed. Dean stepped down from the table, guiding Cas back to the ground.  
"Dean, as flattered as I am for all this, I think your friends have probably seen enough of me for a lifetime," Cas said.  
"Aw, come on," Dean pleaded. "Lemme show you off for a little longer, please? And then we can ignore everyone tomorrow. Please?" Cas sighed.  
"I have the feeling you are making puppy dog eyes at me right now," he said.  
"I am," Dean replied. "And I do mean puppy dog eyes."  
"I'm sure you do. Alright, then. A little while longer," Cas said resignedly. Dean punched the air.  
"You won't regret it," Dean said, kissing him quickly on the lips. 

          "So, first of all, this is Ellen," Dean said. "She owns Harvelle's Bar by the office."  
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Harvelle," Cas said. Ellen raised her eyebrows.  
"Your boy's a cutie, Winchester. Maybe some of his manners'll rub off on you," she said.  
"Here's hoping," Dean said. Cas laughed. Dean, Jo, and Ellen talked for a little while, but soon, a short haired boy, no older then 10, called him over. Dean introduced them; the boy, Ben, made Cas think of a younger Dean. They were practically twins, right down to the way they talked or the words they used.  
"He's just like you," Cas told him. "He should count himself lucky." Dean nudged Cas gently, grinning.  
"You've gotta quit saying stuff like that, Cas," he said. "It'll all go to my head."  
"Well, you can't ask me to be dishonest," Cas replied innocently.  
"I can't, really, can I?" Dean said, putting his arm around Cas' shoulders. They wandered the party a little bit more, until Dean had introduced him to most everyone there. After Cas had met everyone, Dean left his side for the first time that night to get them some drinks. While he was gone, a woman Cas hadn't yet met walked over and introduced herself to him.  
"Hi," she said, her voice patronisingly saccharine. "I'm Lisa. I'm Ben's mother. You must be Castiel."  
"Yes, I am," Cas said. "Nice to meet you."  
"You too," she replied. "Listen, Cas, may I talk to you in private?" Cas hesitated.  
"Well, Dean will be back before too long...maybe for a moment," he finally relented.  
"Alright. Here, this way." She took his arm-he flinched when she grabbed it-and led him into a back hallway. 

          "So, Cas, you want what's best for Dean, right?" she began.  
"Of course," Cas said, suspicion in his voice. "Why?"  
"Listen, Cas. I understand you love Dean, but if you really want him to be happy, you'll understand," Lisa said.  
"Understand what?" Cas asked, a sick feeling taking hold of the pit of his stomach.  
"I know Dean. I've known him for a while. And one of the things I know about him is that he wants a family, with kids, and that's something you can't give him," she explained. At first, Cas tried to shrug it off, thinking it was just the misguided attempt of some confused, jealous woman from Dean's past.  
"You know what this means, right?" she added. Cas nodded.  
"Yes, I suppose I do. But if he wants what I cannot give him, why even waste time on me in the first place?" he asked, feeling certain he held the trump card that would crumble her whole argument.  
"He pitied you, Cas. He felt bad because of your...condition, and he didn't want to leave you. I'm sorry," she said emptily. "I hate to be the one to tell you this." Cas closed his eyes and sighed, the likely truth of the conversation hitting him suddenly. He did want Dean to be happy, and if Lisa was right, the only way that could happen would be to leave him. But that was the last thing he wanted to do-he was so happy with Dean, and Dean seemed happy with him, too. _But then again,_ part of him nagged, _what if that was just a front he put up, to avoid breaking your heart?_ He opened his eyes again and said finally, "I need some air. Excuse me." Lisa nodded at his back as he turned and weaved through the crowd to the front door. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he crumpled on the front steps and dropped his head into his hands. 

          After a moment of painful silence, the door opened again and Dean stepped outside.  
"Hey, Cas," he called when he noticed him on the steps. "I've been looking all over for you...Cas?" Reticently, Cas lifted his head.  
"Dean," he said simply. Dean sat down next to him, handed him a can of Coke, and said, "Cas, what's wrong?" Cas took a fortifying sip of the Coke, then formatted his next words in his mind.  
"Dean, I think I need to leave you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he immediately regretted them. Dean almost scoffed in shock.  
"What? Why?" he asked, setting his hand over Cas'.  
"I can't make you happy."  
"Baby, you make me incredibly happy. I mean, I'm the happiest I've ever been when I'm with you." Cas shook his head, pushing the tears welling in his eyes to the brink of falling.  
"Where the hell did all this come from, Cas?" Dean asked quietly. Cas swallowed.  
"An old friend of yours. Lisa. She told me you wanted a family, and obviously I can't give you that..." Dean set down his Coke and rubbed his temples.  
"I can't believe...that bitch. Who the hell does she think she is, pretending to know what I want," he said, half to himself.  
"Dean, I just don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me out of pity," Cas said.  
"Why would I do that, Cas?" Dean asked. "I don't pity you. I don't pity anyone." After a pause, he added, "Is that one of those stupid ideas Lisa planted in your head?"  
"Yes," Cas said. "While you were getting us drinks, she talked to me in private about how you want a family, and I can't offer you that, and you're only staying with me because you pity me, and-" as he went on, the warm tears that threatened to fall finally dripped down his cheeks, leaving tracks along his flushed face. Dean's eyes, sharp with anger seconds before, softened as soon as they saw the tears fall from Cas' brimming eyes.  
"Cas, please, don't cry," he said. He set his hand on Cas' cheek and cleared away the tears with his thumb. "You know, the only reason she said that is because she's jealous. See," he explained, sounding a little ashamed, "she and I dated for a while, but then we broke up a few months ago. Ever since then, she's been bitter and pissed all the time. She doesn't know anything about what I want." Cas smiled slightly, his fear beginning to evaporate.  
"What is it that you want?" he asked.  
"Cas, isn't it obvious?" Dean answered, almost immediately. "You. I want you. You make me happy."  
"You make me happy as well, Dean Winchester." Cas kissed Dean lightly on the cheek before blushing like a little first grader after a kiss on the playground. Dean smiled, leaned over, and kissed him back impatiently, as though he was laying claim to him. After the kiss ended (and Cas regained his bearings-it was that kind of kiss), Dean helped him to his feet.  
"So, I'm going to go kick Lisa's ass for making you cry, and then I'm going to tell everyone to leave and we can do whatever we want for the rest of the night. Would you care to join me?" he asked, taking Cas' hand. Cas stood up.  
"I would be honoured," he replied, brushing off the last of his tears. 

          "Hey, Ben?" Dean asked, when they'd returned to where Ben was holed up with his DS and a bag of chips, "where's your mom?" Ben jerked his head in the direction of the punch table.  
"Over there. Talking to Jo." Dean nodded.  
"Thanks, man," he said, walking determinedly over to the table. Cas followed behind him, a small part of him immorally excited to see Dean "kick Lisa's ass," as he so aptly put it earlier.  
"Hey, Lisa," he called. She stopped her conversation with Jo mid-sentence and said, "Hello, Dean!" she called back. Her smile disappeared when she saw his hand entwined with Cas'.  
"Lisa, can I talk to you outside?" Dean asked sinisterly.  
"Sure," she said. He slid open the back door that led onto the porch and the three of the walked outside. 

          "So, Cas tells me the two of you had a conversation while I was busy?" Dean said accusatorially. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes narrowed and cold.  
"Dean, I just wanted to-" she began, instantly defensive.  
"To what? To assume that you knew what I wanted out of my life, just cause we dated for a couple of weeks?" Lisa held up her hands innocently.  
"You always said you wanted a family," she said.  
"Yeah, I used to, but then I decided that maybe love was a little more important!" Cas' eyes widened. _Love._ Dean hadn't said it about him before. There was something about the way Dean said it; the way it rolled off his tongue, maybe, or how he said it with unshakable certainty, that made him want to hear it again and again.  
"I was just trying to do what's best for you," Lisa said.  
"Well, I'm not your responsibility. I know what I'm doing, and I know what I want, and I know who makes me happy."  
"Do you really love him, Dean?" she demanded.  
"Yes, I do," he said, grabbing Cas' hand. "And don't you dare suggest that I pity him. I don't pity anyone but you, because you're so hopelessly jealous of our happiness that you just can't stay out of my business."  
"Dean-" she began, but Dean put up a hand to stop her.  
"No. I don't want to hear it." Dean pulled the door opened and he and Cas went inside, leaving it open behind them. Dean found Sam in the crowd and said confidentially, "You wanna help me clear people out?" Sam shrugged.  
"Yeah, sure," he said. Before too long, with the combined efforts of Sam, Dean, and the quickly disappearing chips and beer, the house was empty except for Dean, Sam, and Cas. 

          "Did you have fun?" Sam asked the two of them as they gathered trash.  
"Yes," Cas said. "It was a very informative and revealing experience. Thank you." Sam laughed.  
"No problem. Any friend of Dean's is a friend of mine, especially when they're emotionally stable," he said.  
"Hey, most of my friends are emotionally stable!" Dean said.  
"I know otherwise," Sam replied. Once the house was clean, Sam returned to his hotel (Dean did not suggest he stay with them, which Cas noted as a positive sign). The two of them were recuperating on the sofa, which was hidden before by the mass of people, when Dean asked, "'Re you recovering alright, Cas?" Cas smiled.  
"I'm still processing your admission of love for me, to be honest." Dean laughed.  
"You know I do. Did I kick Lisa's ass hard enough, or do I need to make my contempt a little clearer?" he asked.  
"I think she got the idea, thank you," Cas said. "You can be very..." Cas searched for the correct word, "powerful when you're incensed."  
"Well, thanks," Dean said. "You'd better stay on my good side."  
"I will have to be careful, won't I?" Cas joked.  
"Cas, you could burn my house to the ground and wreck my car and I'd write it off as a mistake and love you anyway," Dean said. Cas smiled.  
"You'd what?" he asked, though he'd heard Dean with perfect clarity the first time.  
"I'd love you anyway," Dean repeated.  
"One more time?" Dean smiled.  
"You just like hearing me say it, don't you?" Cas nodded.  
"I can't help it. It sounds more beautiful when you say it."  
"Yeah, well, all you've gotta do is ask, you know. I like to say it." After a little while of sitting quietly, with Dean's arm draped over Cas' shoulder and Cas' head nestled into his chest, Cas said, "I haven't said it yet, though, have I?"  
"You haven't, in fact," Dean replied.  
"Well, then, I officially love you," Cas said confidently. It was easy to say to him, because it was true.  
"And there won't be any more of this breaking-up stuff?" Dean asked.  
"Absolutely not," Cas said. "Now, would you still like to give me the grand tour?"  
"I thought you'd never ask." 

          Dean was right-the house was small, compared to what Cas was used to. There were 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom, a kitchen, the living room where the sofa was, and a small laundry room. After they'd gotten Cas set up in the guest room, with a space heater and armfuls of extra blankets, they watched The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly while they investigated the typewriter. It was even newer then Cas', easier to manage and with keys not as prone to sticking. Dean set it up in his room, in a corner that served as his "office," though really it was just a desk and a chair with wheels.  
"The chair makes it more important-seeming" Dean said as he rolled the chair around the small room.  
"I think perhaps it's the inherent illusion of productivity," Cas observed.  
"Sounds about right," Dean said. "'Re you hungry?"  
"Yes, a little. Are you?"  
"Yeah," Dean said. "I usually am."  
"Well, then, how do you stay so fit?" Cas asked jokingly.  
"Trade secret," Dean answered with a laugh. "So, based on what you know about me, what do you think I look like?" Cas shrugged.  
"Meg described you pretty glowingly," he said. "You're fairly strong, I know, and you have very green eyes and relatively short tan hair. I'd assume you're unrealistically attractive." Dean laughed, stood up, and pushed the chair back into the desk.  
"I'm not going to say you're wrong," he said. Cas smiled. "Do you miss seeing people?" he asked.  
"Not really," Cas said. "There aren't very many people I want to see anyway."  
"Am I one of the people you do want to see?" Cas smiled.  
"Yes, of course." He was; Cas wanted to know just how green those eyes were, and how perfect that smile really was.  
"Well, for now, you'll just have to use your imagination." He lifted Cas' chin and pressed a quick kiss onto his lips.  
"That," Cas said, "I can do." 

          "Dinner is served," Dean said, setting the bowls of spaghetti on the table. They were in the kitchen, at the small table in the corner. "This is about all I can cook and not burn." He laughed. "Still, I'm sorry it's so plain."  
"I will consider your apology," Cas replied, raising his nose into the air and putting on a haughty tone.  
"Oh, thank you," Dean said. "If you don't forgive me, I just don't think I can go on," he added piously.  
"And we can't have that," Cas said. The food was good; better, perhaps because Dean had prepared it. They sat across from each other, Dean wearing a fond half-smile.  
"Do you deem it acceptable?" he asked teasingly.  
"I do," Cas answered. "You will live to see tomorrow." Dean breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief and laughed. Cas spun his fork in the spaghetti, gathering an uncannily neat forkful.   
"How did you do that?" Dean asked, honest awe in his voice.   
"You just twirl it," Cas explained, "and then you use the knife to move it. It's simple, once you get the hang of it."   
"Here, show me," Dean requested.   
"You really want to take eating instructions from a blind person?" Cas asked, eyebrows raised.   
"You're obviously good at it," Dean said. "Besides, I'll be less of a mess when we go out for dinner."   
"True," Cas said. "Alright, here." He pushed the plate towards the middle of the table and demonstrated the proper way to eat spaghetti, as instructed by Naomi when he was younger. Dean figured it out quickly, and offered as repayment to teach Cas how to eat a hamburger without getting ketchup on everything.   
"You can eat spaghetti like a king, but you can't eat a hamburger like a grown adult," he teased.   
"Are you ever going to let that go?" Cas asked, slightly embarrased.   
"It's not looking like it, no," Dean said. "But don't worry-it's only a matter of time before I do something humiliating." 

          "What would we dress up as, then?" Cas asked, trying to coax the last of the spaghetti onto his fork. Dean shrugged.  
"Anything you want. I did kinda like Charlie's suggestion of Han Solo and Luke from Star Wars, though," he said.  
"I used to have a crush on Han, when I was younger," Cas admitted.  
"No kidding," Dean said. "People always tell me I look a little like him."  
"Who?" Cas asked suspiciously.  
"Just..." Dean shrugged and smiled. "People. Don't question it." He rounded up the dishes, pressing a kiss into Cas' hair on the way to the sink.  
"Besides," he added, "I've always wanted to be Han Solo."  
"Then it's perfect," Cas said.

          As Dean cleaned up the kitchen, Cas constantly offered to help, but he was always refused.  
"Cas, you're the guest. Just sit over there and look pretty. I mean, if you're I cleaning up too, what'll be my inspiration? You're like my kitchen cleaning muse." Cas laughed.  
"I've never been anyone's muse before."  
"Well, then, you'd better get used to it, hadn't you?" Once the kitchen was "clean enough," they watched campy horror movies until Cas was practically falling asleep on Dean's shoulder.  
"I have a feeling you'd be more comfortable in bed," he said.  
"I have a similar feeling," Cas replied, not opening his eyes.  
"Here, come on." Dean helped him to his feet and led him back to his room.  
"If you get too cold, just come into my room," he said, drawing back the sheets on Cas' bed. Cas nodded hazily and laid down, wrapping the blankets around himself.  
"I'll see you in the morning," Dean said.  
"Can't wait," Cas said, curling up underneath the sheets. 

          This continued for about thirty minutes; Cas' inner fight. If the simplicity of the rest of the house was any indicator, Dean's bed was not large enough to fit two people with any comfort for either of them, but still, it was freezing in that room and he knew from experience exactly how warm Dean was. Eventually, he made his decision and, wrapped in blankets, dragged himself to the master bedroom. He knocked quietly on the door jamb, but when that didn't work, he whispered, "Dean!" The breathing blankets shifted slightly before sitting up.  
"Cas," Dean murmured. "You alright?"  
"I wanna sleep with you," Cas said, his tired brain only barely processing his words. Dean laughed weakly.  
"I thought you'd never ask." He dragged off the blankets and led Cas over to the bed, where he crawled in beside him. At first, they weren't even touching, though that didn't last long. Throughout the night, they inched closer to each other. First their feet intertwined, then Cas rolled closer to Dean until he could feel the warmth radiating off his body. He was wearing only sweatpants, after all, for which Cas was incredibly grateful. Before the night was over, Cas was curled against Dean's chest, the two of them wrapped in one another's arms, their legs inseparably intertwined like knotted ropes. Dean's head was perched in the crook of Cas' neck, his arms crossed over Cas' t-shirt clad chest, so tangled Cas hoped they could never be undone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding about "soon"; consider on-time publishing my Christmas gift to you, readers. (Speaking of, seasonal greetings, everyone!) The next chapter will be up Thursday. Enjoy and more soon.


	16. Nowhere Man

          The morning came soon; too soon, according to Cas. He woke up slowly, blinking and yawning to life. Dean was still asleep, his chest rising and falling like clockwork. Cas decided that a little more sleep couldn't hurt, especially not since he was so perfectly comfortable. He nestled back into Dean's chest, folding his hands underneath his head, and fell back into the welcoming warmth of sleep. The second time he awoke was to Dean's sleep-clouded voice.  
"Cas," he whispered, kissing his shoulder and neck. Cas, deciding that this was the way he always wanted to wake up, rolled over and wrapped his arms around around Dean's waist.  
"Good morning," Cas said.  
"Sure is," Dean replied.  
"Do you remember what I said to you last night?" Cas asked, half hoping he didn't.  
"Of course. You said you wanted to sleep with me. That's not something a guy easily forgets, particularly when it comes out of a mouth like yours." Cas smiled and bowed his head.  
"It's too early for flattery, Dean," he said, embarrassed yet thrilled.  
"Who's flattering?" Dean asked. "I'm just being honest." Cas shoved him gently.  
"You're incorrigible," he said, smiling. Dean laughed, the sound muffled by Cas' hair.  
"Tell me about it," he said. "I don't know how you can stand me."  
"The world may never know, Dean," Cas said. After a moment, he added, "I would stay here, you know." Dean smiled. "Provided you would let me."  
"Of course I'd let you. I'd be stupid not to. You don't mind the broken heater in the guest room? Or the fact the house is so small?" he asked.  
"We won't be needing the guest room," Cas replied without hesitation. Dean raised his eyebrows slightly. "And if anything, the size is better. It gives me less to run into." Dean laughed again, and Cas could feel the vibrations of his chest. He was entirely serious about the suggestion-he loved Dean, and he liked Huntingdon fine, and Yamhill didn't have much to offer him anyway. The only thing keeping him there was Meg, and she would be happy to visit, he was sure.  
"You mean it?" Dean asked hopefully.  
"Definitely. I wouldn't miss Yamhill, at all, and everything I need is here already. Besides, I like waking up like this."  
"So do I," Dean said, lowering his head and kissing Cas. He threaded his arms around Cas' waist, pulling him closer and kissing him again. The moment crystallised like a photograph in Cas' mind-warmth that was almost electric and stillness and quiet and Dean, converging into perfection. Cas parted his lips, inhaling the leather and ink smell that he'd come to associate with happiness. In the middle of their kiss, the phone rang.  
"Phone's ringing," Dean muttered against Cas' mouth.  
"Let it," Cas dismissed. Dean smiled and cradled the back of Cas' head in one hand, fingers entangling in his dark hair, the phone ringing persistently in the background.  
 _They'll call back,_ Cas decided, but all linear thought vanished from his head when Dean started tugging gently on his bottom lip with his teeth. Almost involuntarily, Cas tightened his grip on Dean's hips. He leaned back reluctantly to catch his breath, though his hands still stayed latched on to Dean.  
"I should probably see who that is, shouldn't I?" Dean said disappointedly.  
"I suppose so, yes," Cas said. Dean threw off the covers and said, "Wait for me. I'll be right back." He ran out to grab the phone, leaving Cas to try to regulate his ragged breathing. 

          "It's your brother," Dean said, sounding slightly confused. He handed Cas the phone, crawling back into bed beside him.  
"Gabriel?" Cas asked.  
"Yeah," Dean replied. Cas sat up and lifted the phone to his ear.  
"Hello, Gabriel," he said.  
"Hey, Castiel," Gabriel replied, strangely solemn.  
"What's wrong?" Cas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Gabriel paused for a long time before answering, "It's about Andrew. He's been hurt." 

          Cas' heart sunk to his feet. "What happened? How badly?" he demanded, his mind sent into a tailspin.   
"He was shot in the knee this morning, while he was en route from his camp. He'll live, that's for sure, but walking is kind of a grey area-that's what the woman who called said, at least. They're sending him home as soon as they patch him up, which is good, I guess. On the bright side, he can come to the party for once," Gabriel said with a humourless laugh.  
"Okay. When will he arrive?" Cas asked. Dean, noticing the worry painted on his face, sat up and set his hand reassuringly on Cas' back.  
"Late tonight. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you, at least," Gabriel said.  
"Yes, and I'll be glad to see him. He'll be in the hospital, right?" Cas asked.  
"Yeah, for the first little while. I've gotta go, the Army said they'd call back-maybe I'll call you again later."  
"Alright," Cas said. "He'll be okay, Gabriel. Don't worry about him." _Take your own advice,_ he scolded himself.  
"I won't," he replied. "I'll see you soon."  
"Good. We'll be there as soon as we can."  
"'Kay. See you then." Cas listened for the beep, then hung up and dropped the phone defeatedly. 

          "Cas," Dean said, "what is it? What's happened?" Cas hesitated.   
"It's Andrew," he managed choppily. "He was shot earlier today...he'll live, but they say he may not be able to walk. He won't..." Cas stopped mid-speech, not knowing what else to say. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but then reconsidered.  
"I can't imagine what that must be like," he said after a moment of thought. Cas stared numbly at the bedsheets, eyes devoid of their normal life.  
"It was my job to take care of him, Dean. He was my responsibility, and I failed him," he said emptily.  
"Cas, you didn't fail anyone. There was nothing you could do. And besides, it could be much worse. He could be fatally injured. And, I know," Dean added quickly, "I know that doesn't help you feel better, but I hate to see you upset and I really don't know what else to say." Dean set his hand on Cas' shoulder, kneading small circles in it with his thumb.  
"I told him not to go," Cas said, looking up. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't be persuaded. If I had only made a stronger argument, maybe I could've-"  
"No, Cas. You can't talk like that. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen, and unless you actually fired that gun, you can't blame yourself." Cas leaned back against him, trying to listen to what Dean said. Part of him knew he was right, but a voice I the back if his head nagged at him constantly- _You could've done more. You could've saved him._  
"We're gonna be alright," Dean promised, wrapping his arms around Cas' chest.  
"Yes, I hope so," Cas said, putting his hand on top of Dean's. 

          They lay there like that for a little while, Cas ardently trying to calm the stream of thoughts that ran through his head at a mile a minute.   
"Cas?" Dean asked, obviously testing the waters of Cas' mood.  
"Yes, Dean?" Cas replied, lifting his face towards the sound of Dean's voice.  
"D'you feel like eating some breakfast?" he asked, brushing the dark, messy hair out of Cas' eyes.  
"Yes, I do." Cas paused. "I really appreciate all of this, Dean," he said quietly.  
"All of what?"  
"All of...well, everything. I mean, you're so accommodating, and all I've done since I've arrived is panicked about one thing or another, which can't be what you expected, and you've talked me out of everything, so I think what I'm ultimately trying to say is "thank you," he said, in one emotionally fuelled breath.  
"Cas, you don't have to thank me. That's just what people in love do for each other." Cas smiled. "And besides," Dean added, "it's only a matter of time before I freak out about something and you have to talk me down." Dean took Cas' hand, leading him down the hall and into the small kitchen. 

          "I'm afraid today's breakfast menu is a little short," Dean said, rummaging through the cabinets and freezer for something more extravagant than cereal and milk or toast. "I can't cook for shit, as you probably have already discovered, and anyway, a journalist's salary isn't exactly prone to excess."  
"I'll cope," Cas said, leaning on the countertop. "What are the options on this ever so short menu?" Dean closed the fridge with his knee and dropped the armful of milk, orange juice, and butter on the tiny clear spot of the counter.  
"Count Chocula or toast," Dean answered, attempting to make them sound more spectacular than they were.  
"You eat Count Chocula?" Cas asked, incredulous.  
"Hey," Dean said, pointing at him with the box, "don't knock it till you try it. You want some?"  
"You know, I think I do, oddly enough," Cas said.  
"That's the spirit," Dean said. "I'm telling you, you won't regret it. It sounds gross, maybe, but it's delicious." He shook the cereal into two identical bowls, taking a handful straight out of the box.  
"You've sold me," Cas said. "Have you ever thought about being one of those people who yells on commercials?"  
"Like Billy Mays?" Dean asked. Cas nodded. "Those people annoy the Hell out of me. They always sound so angry about everything."  
"It doesn't strike me as a very effective selling point," he agreed. "Although it's good at getting people's attention."  
"Yeah, until they get tired of it and mute the T.V," Dean said, pouring milk into the bowls. "Orange juice, milk, or Coke?" he asked.  
"Who drinks Coke with breakfast?" Cas teased.  
"Listen, are you here to go on a road trip with me, or have you just come to make fun of my eating habits?" Dean joked back.  
"A little of both, I think," Cas said. "Oh, and orange juice please."  
"Alright. Here ya go," Dean said, handing Cas a glass of orange juice. They ate breakfast in front of the television, where they watched The Twilight Zone marathon until they'd finished their cereal.  
"So, thoughts?" Dean asked as he rinsed out the glasses in the sink.  
"Surprisingly good," Cas replied. He was actually shocked at how much he'd liked the cereal; the premise made him a little hesitant, but it was really not half bad. He set the bowls in the sink, prompting a surprised look from Dean.  
"How do you do that?" he asked. Cas shrugged.  
"I heard the water run, and I just kind of assumed the direction from which it was coming. It's relatively easy, once you get used to it," he said nonchalantly.  
"That's awesome. You're like Daredevil," Dean said proudly.  
"Who's Daredevil?" Cas asked, cocking his head to one side.  
"He's this comic book character. He's blind, but he uses echolocation to sense the location of stuff. He's pretty cool, but the movie they made about him was total shit." Cas laughed.  
"Interesting," he said. "Did you read a lot of comic booms when you were younger?"  
"Yeah, tons. I still have a few of them, actually. They were the best-cheap, short, and with good stories. And the hero usually won. They were just," he paused, looking for the right word, "simple, you know? They were one of the few simple things when I was a kid." Cas nodded. "I'll show them to you sometime. You wanna get going, though?"  
"Yes, I do," Cas answered immediately. He might've been able to think about other things since the phone call, but Andrew's situation always lurked at the back of his mind. _Maybe talking to him will make me feel better,_ he told himself, though he doubted even that. 

          There wasn't much to do before they left; Dean had packed as soon as Cas called him, and Cas hadn't taken much out of his bag other than a change of clothes, so all that was left to do was shut off the lights and lock the door and they were off. The drive to Miami was longer than the drive to Huntingdon, by far, and the drive to Huntingdon was a little over six hours. Of course, neither of them minded at all; Dean, who had got a new camera from his brother for his birthday, was anxious to try it out whenever he could, so they were pulling over practically every five minutes to take pictures of trees or mountains or a particular cloud that looked like something. Dean also took pictures of Cas, naturally, which annoyed and flattered him to no end.   
"Taking pictures of a blind person is no fair," he said when he heard the shutter click.  
"I can't help it," Dean argued.  
"That is the weakest defence for anything I've ever heard in my entire life, and I've heard some pretty weak defences," Cas replied.  
"How's this," Dean suggested. "I promise I'll never take any bad pictures of you, and nobody else will ever see them. Deal?" A smile pulled at Cas' lips.  
"Deal," he said finally. "But if you abuse that privilege-" he added, feigning strictness. Dean lifted his arms in surrender.  
"Upon my honour, I won't." Despite all the complaining he did, Cas didn't mind being photographed that much. It was flattering, in fact, to be judged as picture worthy, and the only reason he mentioned it was because he didn't have any way of ascertaining that he didn't look totally ridiculous. At one stop, a trail leading to a waterfall, Dean quizzed Cas on bird calls, which made his mind go instantly to Andrew. When he mentioned him to Dean, he said, "Cas, I'm glad you care about your brother, and I know that if his legs are damaged things won't be easy, but he'll still be the same person. You've been through the same thing he has, in a lot of ways, and I know you wouldn't want people worrying too much about you. And it seems to me like the things you really loved doing with him-listening to the birds, talking, that kind of thing-it seems to me like that won't be affected by whether or not he can walk. I'm not trying to dismiss anything," he added hastily, "I'm just saying that there's no reason you can't do the things with him now that you did before. You know?" The odd thing was, Cas already knew all this, but coming out of someone else's mouth, it sounded more real, more believable, and it made the whole ordeal easier to overcome. 

          "So, are we "boyfriends"?" Cas asked during a lull in the conversation. They were driving down a long stretch of highway, just after the traffic had let up, and though there were other cars on the highway, everything seemed to run like a well-oiled machine.   
"Yeah, Cas, I think so," Dean said, without a moment's thought. "Why?"  
"Well, I don't know," Cas said. "It doesn't sound a little juvenile to you?"  
"What doesn't?"  
"The term. "Boyfriends." It doesn't strike you as a little immature?" Cas said. He was nitpicking, he knew, but he demanded the proper terminology for everything, and this was no different.  
"I see what you mean, yeah. What are our options? "Partners?" "Significant others?"" Dean paused for effect, then suggested, "Lovers?" Cas suppressed a laugh and swatted his arm.  
""Lovers" makes us sound like we're on a Spanish telenovela. How does "partners" sound?" he asked.  
"Sounds a little too professional, to me. How about just plain "dating?"" Dean said. Cas lifted his eyes in thought.  
"Dating is a verb, though. We need a noun."  
"Romantically entangled?"  
"That's an adjective."  
"So close. I still kinda like "lovers."  
"That's fine with me," Cas said, "as long as you don't mind introducing me to your father as your "lover.""  
"Oh, no," Dean said. "Unless you are absolutely hell-bent on it, you will not be meeting my father."  
"Why not?" Cas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Dean had always been vague whenever Cas asked about his remaining parent or his childhood, but it had never really been a big problem in Cas' mind. He made himself a mental note to ask about it, in a non-prying fashion, later on, and for now, not dwell.  
"He's still a little pissed when it comes to the whole "gay son" thing," Dean said. "He kicked me out when I told him, but not before he broke a beer bottle over my head and made sure I knew I was never to come back." He laughed humourlessly. "Can't say I miss him, exactly," he added under his breath. Cas, who got the distinct feeling Dean wasn't thrilled to share his feelings about his past at the moment, moved on. 

          "So, "partner" and "boyfriend" are both out. "Lover" is reserved for...special occasions...," he decided, because in all honesty, he liked the way it sounded. "The only other options I can think of right now are "steady" and "suitor,"" he said.   
""Steady" makes it sound like we're in Grease," Dean said dismissively. He looked over at Cas, who obviously didn't recognise the movie. "Come on? Grease? Never?" he asked, surprised.  
"I lived a sheltered life," Cas said with a shrug. "I've got a lot to learn."  
"Yeah, you're not kidding," Dean said. "So that leaves us with "suitor." I sound like Mr. Darcy." Cas smiled. "Yes!" Dean exclaimed, punching the air with the hand not on the wheel. "You got that one! I made a pop culture reference and you got it! This is a big deal, Cas. You're one step closer to cultural awareness." Cas nodded.  
"Now I've only got to understand movies and I'll be entirely up to speed. So, suitor it is, then?"  
"Yeah, suitor it is. Is that how I'll be introduced to your brother?" Dean asked with a short laugh.  
"Yes. Gabriel, this is my suitor, Dean Winchester. He has been attempting to woo me for a month and three days now," Cas rehearsed.  
"And how is the wooing attempt going so far, out of curiosity?" Dean asked, genuine concern in his voice.  
"Very effective, I would say. Five out of five stars. A++," Cas said. Dean whistled.  
"Those are the highest grades I've ever gotten on anything," he said.  
"And how am I doing, as the wooed?" Cas asked.  
"Incredibly well," Dean answered. "I would even go so far as to say "awesome.""  
"High compliments," Cas said. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome," Dean replied. "You deserve them." Cas smiled and shrugged halfheartedly. "No, I mean it, Cas. You deserve me-hell, you deserve better than me, and don't ever tell yourself any different."  
"What's better than you?" Cas asked.  
"Good point," Dean said jokingly. "But I mean it. You deserve the best anyone has to offer you, and anyone who offers you any less doesn't deserve you." Cas rubbed the back of his neck, like he always did when he was a little embarrassed.  
"As do you," Cas said. "I love you, by the way." He set his hand on the centre console, and Dean rested his on top of it.  
"I love you, too, Cas," he said, the words sounding unshakable and certain, and making everything else disappear from Cas' mind for that moment.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late, I know. But I'll try to be more on-time next time. Next Saturday, cross my heart and hope to die, the next chapter will be posted. Happy New Year, thanks for reading, enjoy, and more soon.


	17. I Want You

          Cas' head was resting against the window, the sun on his face, daydreaming, when Dean's voice yanked him back to reality.   
"Cas, what's the address?" he asked, turning down the radio.  
"4234 Searose Drive, Miami," Cas said automatically. He was very good at that sort of thing; dates and addresses and names. He considered it what he got instead of social skills, which he honestly didn't really miss.  
"Searose," Dean said. "Fancy." Cas nodded.  
"It's a nice house," he said. "It used to be our family's vacation home. Two stories and  seven bedrooms, last I was there."  
"Last you were there?" Dean asked.  
"Gabriel is constantly renovating the thing. Although I guess he judges it up to standards now, because he's letting people see it," Cas said. It was true; since the house was given to Gabriel (which was still a point of contention in the family), it had gone from the original five bedroom two story to a seven bedroom, three balcony, seven and a half bath monolith, complete with guest house and pool. Gabriel insisted it was useful, and from time to time it was. The whole family didn't get together very often, but when they did, almost every room was filled.  


         "So, if you don't mind me asking, how did your family come into all this money, anyway?" Dean asked cautiously.  
"I don't mind at all. It's nothing spectacular, really. Nobody was a member of a mob or anything so dramatic. My father used to be a televangelist, and still is, to a degree. His intentions were pure at first, but then the money seemed too much, and too useful, to just give away, so he started keeping...generous sums to himself. I never questioned it until a few years ago-when I was younger, all I knew was that we were rich and I had a lot of toys." He laughed halfheartedly. "Obviously, it's not exactly a source of pride for me, which is why I try not to spend his money, if I can avoid it."  
"Huh," Dean said. "I never figured you as a preacher's kid, but I guess I can see it now. Do you still go to church and everything?" Cas shrugged.  
"Not typically, no. I go on Easter and Christmas and that sort of thing, but not regularly. I've never really felt comfortable in churches," he said, guiltily. "When I came out to my family, they made it very apparent that the church wasn't exactly welcoming to people like me. To be honest, it's always made me kind of nervous." Dean nodded.  
"Yeah I know what you mean. For a while, when I was a kid, I went to church. I tried going back, after I got kicked out of the house. I guess I was just afraid somebody was going to find out, and they were gonna try and stone me or something," he said. Cas laughed.  
"Me, too. When I was younger, a friend of my dad's-an ultra-conservative extremist-he tried to exorcise me when my father told him. It was unpleasant, to say they least." Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"I've never been exorcised before," he said. "So your dad, do you still talk?" Cas shook his head emphatically.  
"No. Not since I got back from Iraq, six years ago. But in all honesty, I don't really miss him. It may sound cruel, but it's true."  
"Is he gonna be in Miami when we get there?" Dean asked.  
"No. He never comes down from his perch in upstate New York. Why do you ask?"  
"No reason," Dean said with a shrug. "I was gonna talk to him about being such an ass to you when you were a kid." Cas smiled and waved away the suggestion.  
"Don't worry about it, Dean. I'm largely over it now," he said. It was only half-true. Sometimes, he did think about him again, and sometimes, anger or sadness to even guilt would accompany the thoughts. But he told himself he was okay, and convinced himself that it didn't matter, and that was working for him so far. 

          "So who'll be there?" Dean asked. Now, they were in Miami proper, surrounded by palm trees and high rises and tan people in shorts, despite the chill in the air.  
"Andrew, and Gabriel, and his friends. Balthazar usually flies in, too-I haven't seen him in a while. Hester and Anna sometimes come, although they tend to keep to themselves," Cas said.  
"How about the older ones?" Dean asked. "Michael and Lucy." Cas laughed.  
"It's Lucian, unless you really want to make him mad. I don't think they'll be there, although Naomi might. She thinks we need supervision."  
"She's the overprotective one, right? With the annoying dogs?" Cas smiled and nodded. In one of the letters, he'd mentioned to Dean that Naomi had three incredibly small, incredibly obnoxious dogs who she took everywhere with her. He hadn't had the displeasure of meeting them yet, but Gabriel told him firsthand just how irritating they were when he likened them to flying monkeys, and her to the Wicked Witch of the West. Cas, though he didn't let on, thought the description fit perfectly.  
"Yes, that's the one. If she's there, I'm sure they'll accompany her, as they always do," he said.  
"I hate dogs," Dean said, shaking his head. "They scare the shit out of me."  


         "What, a tough guy like you, afraid of dogs?" Cas teased, a little surprised.  
"They kinda make me nervous. Nothing should have that many teeth. Does Gabriel have one?" Dean asked, anxiously.  
"Yes, I think. His name was Chewy, after Chewbacca. He's a nice dog, though, as I remember. Very companionable. He won't hurt you, don't worry." Dean pouted.  
"Listen, they just make me kinda on edge," he said. "I'll get over it. It's not a big deal, anyway."  
"Are you afraid of anything else I should be aware of?" Cas asked teasingly.  
"No, that's it. It's weird, actually. I'm not afraid of snakes, or sharks, or clowns, or anything. It's just dogs. I dunno why," Dean said, a little embarrassed.  
"Perhaps they were linked with a traumatic experience from your past," Cas suggested, only half joking. Dean thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah, actually. One of my neighbours, when I was little. He had a dog, and it'd always bark at me. Bit my brother's hand once, too, the son of a bitch." He paused, laughed, and said, "Did you just therapise me?" Cas smiled.  
"If that was a word, then yes, I suppose I did. And I won't even charge you," he said.  
"Thank you," Dean replied. "Now my fear of dogs is explained, all thanks to you."  
"All in a days work for Castiel Milton, world class therapist," Cas said. _I might make a good therapist,_ he thought dryly, _if only I didn't need therapy myself._

          "This house of his," Dean asked, "is it on the coast?"  
"Yes," Cas said. "Why?" They'd been driving around Miami for a while now, because Dean insisted he had an incredible internal compass and did not need a map, much less directions.  
"I wanna know where I'm looking," he said, then added after a moment, "oh, here's Seafront. I'll bet we're getting closer."  
"I can call him, you know," Cas suggested. "It's really no trouble."  
"I am a man on a mission now," Dean said. "I've gotta find it to prove a point. Here we go, here's Seagrass...yes! Searose!" He punched the air with one hand, grinning, and grabbed Cas' hand.  
"House finding champion," he said, raising it into the air like the winner of a boxing match. Cas smiled slightly.  
"It's almost uncanny," he said. "Now if you can pick the right house, I'll be absolutely shocked."  
"You're on," Dean replied determinedly. "4234, right?"  
"Right. It's kind of ostentatious...you can't miss it," Cas said. Dean was scanning the addresses of the house when Cas' cell phone rang loudly in his pocket. 

          "Hello?" he said, automatically assuming the worst-that it was about Andrew, and that his injury was more detrimental then they'd thought.  
"Cas, are you in a black Impala?" Gabriel asked on the other end of the phone, his smile apparent in his voice.  
"Yes," he answered suspiciously. "Why?"  
"Cause it's driven past the house twice now. You know the address, right?" he asked.  
"Yes, of course. 4234, isn't it?"  
"Yeah," Gabriel said. "There's a red Ferrari parked out front, if that helps."  
"Since when do you drive a red Ferrari?" Cas asked. Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"He drives a red Ferrari?" he said excitedly.  
"I got it for my birthday. Tell your boyfriend I can hear him and he's not allowed to touch it, under any circumstances," Gabriel said.   
Cas covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and said, "Apparently you can't touch it." Dean deflated. "Don't worry, I'll try to get him to change his mind," Cas said.  
"I'm not changing my mind," Gabriel interjected. "I'll see you soon."  
"Alright. Bye." He hung up the phone and tucked it back in his pocket.

          "What'd he say?" Dean asked.  
"He said we've driven past the house twice. There's a red Ferrari parked out front," Cas said, a little triumphantly.  
"I thought that was it," Dean said defensively. "I just wanted to make sure." Cas laughed dryly.  
"Oh, of course," he said. "Although I have to give you credit for finding the road without much trouble."  
"I'm telling you, my internal sense of direction is incredible," Dean said, pulling into the driveway beside the Ferrari.  
"But you couldn't find the house because...?" Cas teased.  
"Because the numbers were small. They were hard to read from the road. And besides, if I'd gotten it wrong, it would've been embarrassing for everyone," Dean said dismissively. "This is a huge house," he said, looking wide eyed at it through the windscreen.  
"Yes, it is," Cas said. "I always found it a little tacky, but it is roomy, so I don't complain. Besides, I'm not here very often."  
"What?" Dean asked. "Why not? I mean, seriously. Ocean view, swimming pool, all the space you could ever want, and the beach is literally right there. It's paradise."  
"If you'd like to move in, be my guest. There's certainly room for you." The house, Cas had to admit, was nice-the front yard was reasonably sized, and the house itself was nice looking, not like the ones that looked more like minimalls than lived-in homes. There was a two car garage, where the Ferrari was usually parked, though when the weather was nice or he was expecting company, Gabriel liked to leave it in the driveway to show it off. Connected by a walkway was a guest house, with a bedroom and it's own little kitchen. Usually, that was occupied by whatever family member was the most volatile at the time. It was often referred to as "the time out house" by Gabriel, though even though they all mocked it, they admitted it was useful. 

          There was a sudden tap on Cas' window, interrupting his daydreaming and making him jump.  
"Is that your brother?" Dean asked. "Shortish brown hair, sorta browney-green eyes, smiley looking."  
"Yes, it is," he answered guiltily. He felt around for the button and rolled the window down grudgingly.  
"Hello, Gabriel."  
"Hey, little brother. How was the drive?"  
"The usual. Short. Pleasant. Gabriel, this is Dean," he said, cutting to the chase.  
"Hiya, Dean. I'm Gabriel, Cas' older brother," Gabriel said, already exuding protectiveness.  
"Hi. Cas has told me a lot about you. It's good to finally meet you," Dean said, fighting back silently with confidence and calm. It was a little like watching two lions duel over a piece of meat or a cub.  
"Only nice things, of course," Cas said, determined to diffuse the situation before it turned into something more unwieldy. He opened the door and stood up, prompting Dean to do the same.  


         "How's the house?" Cas asked, grabbing his bag out of the trunk.  
"Good. Still in great shape, thanks to tireless hours of work by yours truly," Gabriel said, taking Cas' bag off his hands.  
"Yes, you and your small platoon of maids," Cas muttered. Dean smiled at the ground as he followed the pair of them inside, his own bag slung over his shoulder, his camera in his hand.  
"There's only one, and she's been with the family for years," Gabriel said. "I've tried to tell her I can handle the place, but she just won't go away."  
"Because she knows you can't handle the place," Cas retorted.  
"Listen, I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, you seem to think it's some kind of evil to have help around the house, but it's not," Gabriel said. "Besides, at least I don't treat them like dirt like Michael does."  
"Don't bring him up," Cas said. "I don't want to talk about him."  
"Nobody does," Gabriel commiserated, nudging the door open with his hip. "And yet here we are. Hey, speaking of the Terrible Two, Lucian said he might be coming." Cas raised his eyebrows, looking as though he'd just taken a punch to the face.  
"Lucian?" Dean asked, setting his bag down just inside the door.  
"Yep," Gabriel said. "He wants to see Andrew."  
"Where is Andrew?" Cas asked, half excited and half scared out of his mind.  
"He's not here yet. They're flying him over within the hour. I just talked to his doctor on the phone, he's doing fine." Cas took a deep breath.  
"Good," he said, relaxing visibly. "Who else will be here?"  
"Hester, Anna, Naomi, and Zar. He's flying in, too. Should be here tomorrow," Gabriel said, more excited now. "D'you want me to show you around?" he offered.  
"Sure," Dean said with a shrug. "Can't hurt. Cas told me how massive this place was on the way down."  
"I'm sure he made it sound hellish, didn't he?" Gabriel asked, only half joking.  
"No, of course not," Dean said. Cas breathed an internal sigh of relief. 

          Gabriel led the two of them, holding hands, of course, up the front staircase. From the front room, the were three options-there was a hallway to either side, one of which led into the kitchen and the other to the living room. The top floor was reserved for bedrooms, although there was a living room up there, too.  
"So how many people stay in this house, usually?" Dean asked as they climbed the stairs.  
"Just one," Gabriel said. "Two if I'm lucky," he added suggestively. "Three if I'm really lucky." Cas rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile, which was more than Dean could do, laughing under his breath. He chuckled, then said, serious again, "I'm told you have a dog."  
"Yeah," Gabriel said. "Chewy. What, is that a problem?"  
"Dean's afraid of dogs," Cas said. Dean nudged him with his elbow.  
"You just totally threw me under the bus, man," he hissed. Cas smiled innocently.  
"I didn't know it was a secret," he said.  
"Don't panic, princess," Gabriel said, sounding amused. "He's a good dog. Wouldn't hurt a fly. He's outside, right now. I'll introduce the two of you later."  
"It's not that dogs are inherently scary to him," Cas began to explain. "His fear is linked to a traumatic childhood experi-"  
"Okay, Cas," Dean interrupted. "You don't have to air all my dirty laundry right now, do you?"  
"Your boyfriend's right," Gabriel said. "Just save it for blackmail later. That's what I do." Cas grinned wickedly.  
"Listen, remember when I promised you that embarrassing incident?" Dean said under his breath.  
"I'll consider us even," Cas said. 

          "This is the room I figured you'd be in," Gabriel said, switching on the light in the room at the far end of the hall. "There's a balcony, and an ocean view, which is pretty nice. This was my favourite room to design, actually."  
"It's awesome," Dean said. Gabriel set Cas' bag down by the door and smiled.  
"I thought you'd like it. The bed's nice, too," he added. Cas blushed and ground his toe into the floor.  
"Oh, by the way, have the two of you decided what you're going to dress up as for the party?" Gabriel asked.  
"Luke and Han Solo from Star Wars," Dean said, smiling. Gabriel laughed.  
"Perfect," he said. "Did Cas tell you about the huge crush he used to have on Han?" Dean nodded. "He used to have this poster on his wall-"  
"Thank you, Gabriel," Cas said, trying to hurry him off.  
"-and whenever we watched the movies, he'd just sit in front of the screen and stare with his jaw practically on the ground-"  
"Gabriel," he repeated.  
"Okay, I'm going," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying, it's very fitting. Come get me if you need anything." He walked out of the room, still smiling to himself, and eased the door shut behind him. 

          "A poster, huh?" Dean teased. Cas smiled at the ground.  
"Dean," he chided, embarrassed.  
"Oh, no," Dean said. "You had the dog thing, so this is my payback. You are never going to hear the end of this." Cas ran his hand through his hair, still half-smiling shyly.  
"Would you like to go look out the balcony?" he said, in a shameless attempt to distract Dean.  
"Yes," he answered, "but if you think you can make me forget that this easily, you're so wrong." Cas sighed.  
"Yes, that's what I thought. Do you like the house so far?" he asked, reaching for Dean's hand.  
"Yeah," he replied, taking Cas' hand and leading him to the balcony. "Your brother seems cool."  
"He's alright. He's not as bad as the others. Which reminds me," Cas said, "I'm not saying we can't spend time together at the party, but since Naomi and Lucian are both going to be there, try not to make it too glaringly obvious." Admittedly, he was more than a little worried about how Dean would respond, but he knew he'd be rational.  


         "Don't they know you're out?" Dean asked.  
"Yes, but I just don't want to be too...flamboyant. It might set them off," he said carefully.  
"Well, you can't always be that planned," Dean said. "I mean, you can't arrange your life so you don't upset a few bigots, you know?" he said, stopping dead in his tacks towards the balcony doors.  
"I know," Cas said. "I just want this to go smoothly. It can act as a Litmus test," he suggested. "If they react well to this, we can go a step further. Deal?"  
"Yeah, deal," Dean said, a little begrudgingly. "But don't be afraid of them, okay? They're just arrogant jackasses," he said, kissing Cas' cheek quickly.  
"Only I get to call my siblings jackasses," Cas reprimanded, half jokingly.  
"Alright, fine. Permission to call your siblings jackasses?" Dean asked.  
"Granted."  
"They're jackasses." He sighed contentedly.  
"Feel better?" Cas asked.  
"Tons," Dean answered. He swung open the balcony door and led Cas through. 

          "It's beautiful out here, Cas," Dean said, looking out at the quiet waves lapping at the white sand.  
"I wish I could see it," Cas replied. He stood out on the edge of the balcony, leaning against the railing.  
"I wish you could, too."  
"Tell me about it," Cas requested, turning around slightly to the sound of Dean's voice.  
"Alright," Dean said, "I can give it a shot. The sand is really pale and clean-looking, and it's white closest to the land, but it gets darker as it gets closer to the edge of the water. The ocean's deep blue, like your eyes, kinda, and it looks so calm, it's almost like a-shit," he said under his breath, searching for the right word. Cas laughed.   
"I don't think the water is like a shit," he teased. Dean rolled his eyes.  
"See, this is why I'm a journalist, not a poet." Cas laughed.  
"I think you'd make an incredible poet, if it makes any difference."  
"Course it makes a difference," he said, then added triumphantly, "Mirror! That's it. The water's so calm, it's almost like a mirror, so you can see the sun reflected almost perfectly in it. And around the sun, there's a pinkish halo of light, and it's colouring in all the clouds and turning the sky purple." He paused again, scanning the beach for anything remarkable. "That good?"  
"Perfect," Cas said contentedly, closing his eyes and imagining the beach and the house and Dean in vivid detail. For all his stumbling through descriptions and embarrassing secret fears, Cas loved him, and in a way he felt like he always had, even before they met. On the rare occasion that Cas did imagine the perfect person, he imagined Dean almost exactly. Dean threaded his arms around Cas' waist and kissed his cheek quickly.  
"Maybe I should take some poetry writing classes," Dean suggested.  
"You don't need them," Cas said. "You're very good at it as it is."  
"Thanks," Dean said. Cas yawned, surprisingly loudly. "You tired?" he asked. Cas nodded mutely.  
"Yeah, me too," Dean said. "I'm gonna go get my bag from downstairs. I'll be right back." Reluctantly, he unwrapped his arms from around Cas and ran out of the room. Cas smiled to himself and walked inside, closing the door behind him.

          Cas was rifling through his bag, looking for his pyjamas, when he heard a knock on the door.  
"Come in," he said, standing up.  
"Hey, little brother," Gabriel said, swinging open the door. "I'm going to get Andrew from the hospital. I'll be right back."  
"Aren't they driving him back in a ambulance?" Cas asked.  
"Yeah," he said. "I'm going to meet him at the hospital and ride back with him. Just like I did with you when you got back. Listen, when we get back, come check on him, alright? I know he'll want to see you. Oh, and by the way, here." He draped a tie over Cas' shoulder and turned to leave. Cas took the tie off his shoulder and rubbed it between his fingers.  
"Why do I have this?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.  
"What, don't you know?" Gabriel replied.  
"No," Cas said, confused.  
"I haven't taught you very well, then. Ask Dean. I've gotta go, I'll be back soon." He ran down the steps and out of the house, shutting the door behind him. 

          While Cas continued to hunt through his bag, he tried to puzzle out the meaning of the tie. Gabriel knew that he of all people had brought some with him, so it couldn't be to wear; knowing Gabriel, it was something devious and blush-worthy. He left the tie on the bed and pulled off his t-shirt, exchanging it for his newfound pyjamas. He heard the door open and turned towards the sound, automatically covering his chest with the shirt.  
"Oh. Hey, Cas," Dean said. Cas relaxed, lowering the shirt.  
"Dean," he said, relieved. "I'm sorry, do you mind if I-"  
"No," Dean said. "The opposite, actually. Do you want me to turn around, or-"  
"Either way," Cas said. "Gabriel went to get Andrew from the hospital. He'll be back before too long. Andrew wants me to see him when he does arrive, though. Oh, and Gabriel gave me this, I don't know what it's for" he added, handing Dean the tie. Dean sat down on the bed, looked at it for a moment, then asked, "Did he say anything?" Cas shook his head.  
"Nothing telling, at least. He said you'd know what it was for."  
"Well..." he paused. "When, uh, when two people want some...private time...at a party or wherever, they put a tie on the doorknob so they're not, uh, disturbed." Cas paused. "Like, for sex?" he asked, pulling off his jeans without thinking. He folded them up, leaving them in a neat, clean looking stack at the foot of the bed. Dean glanced up from the tie and noticed Cas, in only his baggy t-shirt and underwear, standing silhouetted against the light from the balcony. He swallowed hard, reminding Cas that he was still there.  
"Oh," Cas said, a little embarrassed. When he opened his mouth to apologise, something else came out instead. "Am I distracting you?" he asked coyly, smiling. Dean raised his eyebrows and sat up in bed.  
"Absolutely," he said. "What's gotten into you?"  
"I don't know," Cas replied honestly, pulling on the pyjama pants he'd brought with him.  
"Well, I like it," Dean said. Cas walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down beside Dean.  


         "So, um, the tie...'" he said, hinting around the big question. After all, he'd be lying if he said that sleeping with Dean had never occurred to him. He was kind, and from the little touches they'd shared, his body was muscled, warm, strong. His voice was like whiskey, warm and dark, and he could so easily imagine it whispering and murmuring into his ear.   
"Yeah," Dean said. "What do you, uh, think of it?"  
"Well..it means Gabriel has given us, particularly you, his...blessing. In the bedroom." Dean raised his eyebrows. "What do you think?"  
"Lucky me, 's what I think," he smirked. "I mean, if your brother wants you to get laid, I'm not gonna get in the way. I mean, as long as you're into it."  
"Well, of course I am," Cas mumbled. Dean grinned.   
"Really, Cas?"  
"Yes, Dean. Ever since I met you, the idea of being with you has been in the back of my mind. I didn't approach it because I wasn't sure how, but since the importunity has come, well, I'd be more than happy for you to take me to bed." Dean chuckled, smiling. "Well then." He smirked. "No time like the present, huh?"  
"Now?" Cas repeated.   
"Think about it, Cas. Gabe's out. It's just us, babe..." he set a hand on Cas' shoulder, rubbing it slowly. "If you wanna back out, at any time, there won't be any hard feelings. I want you to be happy and comfortable." Cas smiled.   
"Thank you, Dean," he smiled, reaching out to cup Dean's cheek and draw him in for a kiss. Dean hummed contently against his lips, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close and angling their bodies together. Their tongues touched, nudging together, lips parting and teeth nipping, gentle and good-naturedly teasing. Soon, Dean lay Cas back, kissing at his neck, lips continuing down the canvas of his chest, nipping little marks into his skin. He reached hs hand into his boxers, wrapping around him and stroking evenly, slowly at first. Cas' hips arched up off of the bed and he made a little whining groan of Dean's name, loving the sensations but still needing more. He straddled Cas' hips, pulling his hand away and rutting against him, both of them sighing against each other's mouths and the crooks of their shoulders.   


         In a rare moment of quiet, Cas heard the sound of wheels rolling against the marble flooring in the hallway, and the beeping of Andrew's army of machines. Cas caught his breath and Dean pulled away, both of them lifting their ears to listen to the sound.   
"He'll wanna see you," Dean sighed, sounding as frustrated as they both felt.   
"I know he will."  
"I'll let you up." Cas smirked up at Dean, one eyebrow quirked teasingly.   
"We can finish later."  
"Oh, we'd better," Dean replied, teasing. "C'mon. I wanna meet Andrew too." Cas nodded.   
"Let's get...decent," he laughed.   
"Let's," Dean smiled. "Come on. I hear the longer you wait, the better it gets."   


          "Hey," Gabriel said, meeting the two of them in the hallway, both men dressed and back to normal. "Did you figure out the tie?"  
"Yeah," Dean said. "Even got some use out of it, too," he added, loudly enough for only Cas to hear.  
"Dean," Cas chastised, nudging him gently with his elbow.  
"Good for you two," Gabriel said. "Explains why Cas is in such a good mood, too. Andrew is two doors down from you guys, on the left. He's awake right now, but he might not be for too much longer." Cas nodded and followed Dean down the hall and into one of the rooms. Inside was a boy, no older than 18, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a whole brigade of machines. His breathing was heavy and ragged, and there was a thick looking dressing on his thigh with a faint red bloom spreading across it.  
"Hey, Castiel," he said hazily. "How are you?"  
"I'm good, Andrew," Cas said. "Most importantly, how are you?"  
"I'm alright," Andrew replied. "I mean, considering everything." He leaned around Cas to get a better look at Dean. "Who's this?"  
"This is Dean. My boyfriend," Cas said. Dean stepped forward and grabbed Cas' hand.  
"Hey, Andrew. Good to meet you," he said. They talked for a little while, about nothing specific. Cas was just glad to have Andrew close by, where he could make sure nothing happened to him. They talked about the army a little, although it was apparent that neither of them really wanted to dwell on it too much. He and Dean got along incredibly, which gave Cas what was probably a false sense of hope. After an hour of talking, Andrew started to fall asleep, as much as he tried to stay awake. He'd start to doze off, then wake back up and attempt to continue the conversation. He apologised profusely, of course; Dean joked later that he knew where Andrew had gotten that habit. When Andrew was good and truly asleep, Cas and Dean snuck out, even though a stampede of elephants parading through his room couldn't have woken him up. 

           "I like your brother," Dean said, climbing into bed beside Cas. Cas glanced up from the book he was reading and nodded.  
"Yes, Andrew is one of the most relaxed family members I have," Cas said. "He seems to be coping very well with his injury, which makes me feel better."  
"Yeah," Dean said. "I don't see what you were so afraid of, me meeting your family." He dragged the heavy blanket up under his chin and shifted closer to Cas, who closed the book and set it on the table next to his bed.  
"I hope everything works out, whenever it is they all descend on this house," Cas said, worry setting in. Dean kissed him on the cheek and said, "Don't worry about it, babe. If they have a problem with us, they'll just have to get over themselves." Cas sighed and rested his hand on Dean's chest.  
"I know," he said, wrapping his leg around Dean's. "We'll be fine." Before too long, they were both asleep, breathing in sync and entangled in eachother's arms, warm and safe and quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 is here! The next chapter should be posted by this coming Friday. Enjoy, thanks for reading, and more soon!


	18. Mother Nature's Son

          The dream began the same way it always did-Cas, and three other men, walking down a wide dirt road in the heat of summer. The dream was so real, he could practically feel the sun on his face and the sand in his shoes. Steven, the tallest, was joking about the old woman who's house they'd just visited.  
"I appreciate the sentiment and everything," he said, "I just don't see why she thinks a blessing is gonna save us from serious danger."  
"I think it's nice," Levi defended with a shrug.  
"It certainly can't hurt," Cas replied. Steven wiped some of the sweat off his forehead and took off his jacket, tying it around his waist. They walked down the long and winding road for a little longer, Cas well aware that he was dreaming and enjoying the bright colours he'd missed so much, despite the fact that he knew what was coming. Sure enough, in a moment, there was the telltale click of a land mine and Levi froze in his tracks.  
"Shit," Steven muttered. "Levi, don't move. I'm going to get the general." Keith, the quietest private of their group, nodded. "I'll go with him. Stay here," he said before running after Steven. Levi sighed.  
"Not like I have much choice, huh?" he said with a nervous laugh. "There's nothing anyone can do for me, Cas. I'm screwed. You'll stay with me, won't ya, Cas?" he asked, voice breaking. Cas nodded.  
"Of course, Levi," he said, just as he had the last thousand times the dream had ruined his sleep and made him wake up in a desperate panic. He took his eyes off Levi, just for a moment, and everything went black.  


          "Cas," Dean hissed, nudging his arm. Cas woke with a start, sitting up almost instantly. "Are you okay?" he asked, turning on the lamp beside the bed. Cas swallowed and brushed his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.  
"I had a nightmare," he answered.  
"I figured. You were talking in your sleep, too. You wanna tell me about it?" Dean suggested. Cas nodded, and slowly explained the dream, not leaving out a single detail. Dean listened to every word, only speaking when Cas had finished recounting the story.  
"Jesus, Cas, that's awful. And that's how you lost your sight?" he asked carefully.  
"Yes," Cas replied. "I don't talk about it very often...it dredges everything up. But I do feel better now."  
"Good. So that dream, you've had it before, right?"  
"Yeah," Cas nodded. "I haven't had it for a while, though. I think it's this house; it's where I returned to when the Army sent me home."  
"We could always go to a hotel," Dean offered. "I mean, if staying here is gonna upset you." Cas shook his head.  
"I'll be fine. I probably need to overcome it, anyway, so staying here will only help me. And besides, talking to you always improves things." Dean smiled.  
"Thanks. If you change your mind-"  
"I'll be okay, Dean. Don't worry about me, please," he replied emphatically.  
"I can't help it," Dean said. "But I'll try. I'm gonna go get myself some breakfast-d'you wanna come with me?"  
"Sure," Cas said, climbing out of bed. He checked his tactile watch for the first time in a while; 9:38. No way would Gabriel be awake yet, since he usually slept well into the afternoon and stayed up past midnight. He used to get teased by the rest of the family about his strange sleep patterns, though to him they were just a point of pride.  


          "Did you sleep well?" Cas asked, taking Dean's hand.  
"Yeah, pretty well. You made me a little nervous, though, with your nightmare."  
"I'm sorry," he replied. "Did I wake you?" Dean nodded.  
"Uh huh. But don't worry about it," he said. "I didn't mind much. I wasn't really tired anyway."  
"I was that loud?"  
"I'm a light sleeper," Dean said with a shrug. "And I wanted to be awake when you woke up. To make sure you were okay and all." Cas smiled.  
"Thank you. It did help, talking to you," he said, swinging his hand in Dean's.  
"That's what I'm here for," Dean said, kissing him quickly.  


          On the way to the kitchen, they stopped by Andrew's room to check in on him. He was asleep, snoring quietly, spread out on his back like a starfish. Cas laughed quietly.  
"He must be on so much medication," he said over his shoulder to Dean. "He was always the first one awake and the first one to bed when we were little. He would be appalled if he knew what time it was." Dean smiled.  
"Just like my brother," Dean said. "He used to wake up an hour before we had to be ready for school, so he had a chance to study before he left."  
"And you?" Dean chuckled.  
"I was lucky if I even woke up in time to make it for lunch," he said. "Cas, I hate to say it, but you're dating an ex-slacker." "And you're dating an ex-geek," Cas said, "so in the long-run, I assume it all evens out." Dean smiled, easing the door to Andrew's room shut.  
"You used to be a geek?" Dean asked, leading Cas down the front stairs into the lobby.  
"Oh, definitely," Cas said, nodding. "Although your incredulity is a huge compliment."  
"Thank you," Dean said. "I mean, I figured you were smart as a kid, but I never thought you'd be a card-carrying geek."  
"I didn't just carry the card," Cas said, "I was the primary printer and distributer of the card. I made straight A's all throughout high school and made the Dean's list junior and senior year. I even wore the glasses, complete with the tape around the bridge of the nose."  
"Oh, no way," Dean replied, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "Which way?"  
"Left, I think," Cas advised.  
"Yeah, you're right," Dean said, walking into the large dining room. A chandelier hung overhead, refracting light in erratic patterns all across the plum coloured walls. "So what was with the tape on the glasses?"  
"Michael stepped on them," Cas said. "Not intentionally-at least, that's what he said. I wore them like that fora few weeks because I'd have to go get new frames, and for that I'd have needed a legal guardian's signature, which would've been unattainable since both of my parents were away."  
"Away? Away to where?"  
"Aruba, that time, I think. They said it was a mission trip, but I don't think people in Aruba are exactly desperate for the gospel." Dean laughed, but his laugh was cut short by the scrabble of claws on the hardwood floors.  


          "Sonuvabitch," he muttered as the massive dog with shaggy brown hair rounded the corner and charged him eagerly. "I guess Chewy's found you," Cas said with a short laugh.  
"Yeah, he's done a little more than that," Dean said, an anxious edge to his voice. "He's slobbering all over me."  
"That just means he likes you," Cas said.  
"Yeah, or that he's about to eat me," Dean replied, lifting his arms out of the dog's reach. Chewy, suddenly disinterested in Dean, trotted over to Cas, sitting patiently in front of him. Cas reached out and patted the dog's head, smiling.  
"What are you, the Dog Whisperer?" Dean asked, looking over at the obediently sitting dog jealously.  
"Animals just like me," Cas shrugged. "And I'm sure Chewy knows me. He's got a good memory for a dog."  
"He's kinda cute when he's not trying to lick you to death," Dean said.  
"He's a rescue," Gabriel said from behind them. "I told you he was a good dog."  
"He tried to lick off a layer of my skin," Dean corrected.  
"Call it exfoliating," Gabriel dismissed. "He'll get used to you." He walked past them and into the dining room, bumping into Cas' shoulder as he went.  
"Gabriel, are you wearing a silk pyjamas?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief. As he thought about it, of course, if anyone would be walking around in silk pyjamas, it would be Gabriel.  
"It's a bathrobe, and it's very comfortable," Gabriel defended. "What, would you rather me walk around naked?"  
"For Dean's sake, I think not," Cas said under his breath. The dog still sat expectantly in front of Cas, tail thudding against the floor.  
"That dog worships the ground you walk on," Dean said.  
"I don't understand it in the slightest," Cas said, skirting around the dog and through the dining room. The phone rang in the kitchen and Gabriel snatched it up eagerly, his face falling when he herd the voice on the other end.  


          "Michael. I was hoping you wouldn't call," he said acidly. Cas grimaced, getting a sinking feeling he knew where the phone call was going. "Oh, you think so? For Andrew. Of course. It's not like you've suddenly started caring about him or anything, after years of kicking him around like he's a piece of shit with a pulse." That last jab made the both of them wince, even though Cas knew it was true. "You're just bent on ruining my party, aren't you?" Gabriel snapped, pacing around the kitchen. "You know what, since there's nothing I can do, other than physically trapping you on your plane, then sure." Gabriel sighed grudgingly and said, "Yeah, alright. He's here, right now. No, he doesn't want to talk to you. Well, you'll be here to annoy the hell out of him soon enough. But you listen to me, if you screw this up, you're not coming back any time remotely soon. Got it? Good. Yeah, bye." He hung up the phone and leaned through the doorway.  


          "Michael's flying in tomorrow, isn't he?" Cas asked, knowing full well the answer.  
"Yep," Gabriel said. "But the first stupid thing he does, he's gonna be out on his ass, so don't worry about him." Cas nodded. "Does he know Lucian's going to be here?" he asked.  
"I don't know. Probably. I don't see why we can't all just get along," Gabriel said resignedly.  
"Amen," Dean replied.  
"So when is everyone else arriving?" Cas asked, walking through into the kitchen.  
"Balthazar should be here any time now, and Lucian is flying in tonight. Naomi, Ann, Hester, and Michael are all gonna be here tomorrow," Gabriel said, opening one of the cabinets and setting the boxes of cereal on the counter. "Cas, you want some cereal?" he offered.  
"Yes, please."   
"Dean, would you?"  
"Sure," Dean said. "What kind've you got, Gabe?"  
"Fruit Loops and Count Chocula," Gabriel said.  
"God, what are you, six? Are you looking for those little prizes they've got?" Dean teased. Cas was a little nervous for a moment, since Gabriel's temper could be a little mercurial, but to his relief he laughed.  
"Hey, if you don't like my cereal choices, you don't have to eat them," he said. "Now, do you want some cereal or what?"  
"Yeah, Count Chocula, thanks," Dean replied, leaning on the doorframe.  
"Me too," Cas said.  
"Told ya you'd like it," Dean said. "What do you wanna do today?" he asked.  
"The weather seems nice," Cas suggested. "We could go to the beach."  
"It's supposed to warm up a little today," Gabriel said. "Sixty-five or something." He poured the cereal into bowls and grabbed the milk out of the fridge.  
"Sounds nice," Dean agreed. "We can go after breakfast."  
"Speaking of," Gabriel said, handing them their bowls of cereal. Dean, followed closely by Cas, sat down at the dining room table. As soon as Gabriel sat down beside Cas, the doorbell rang, sending Chewy into a fit of baying. Dean tensed up and leaned away from the source of the sound, making Gabriel chuckle.  
"Oh, lay off, Chewy," Gabriel dismissed, standing up to answer the door. "I'll bet it's Zar," he added over his shoulder to Cas. He flung open the door and welcomed Balthazar excitedly, the two of them laughing and joking between themselves.  
"Balthazar's nice," Cas told Dean. "He's kind of a flirt, but at least he's not intent on ruining my life like Michael."  
"What," Dean asked, "you think I can't handle a little flirting?"  
"Of course I do, Dean. He can be hard to ignore, is all I'm saying," Cas defended. He pushed his chair and the two of them went to the door to greet him, hand in hand.  


          "Castiel?" Balthazar asked, his clipped accent making the word almost unintelligible to the untrained ear. "You've shot up since the last time I saw you!"  
"Hello, Balthazar. Yes, I am prone to doing that. How was your flight?" Cas asked.  
"Alright," He replied, pulling off his thin black vest and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. "I got an aisle seat, so I'm not complaining. Who's this?" he asked, gesturing at Dean.  
"This is my boyfriend, Dean Winchester," Cas replied proudly, the words rolling off his lips.  
"Hey. Balthazar, right?" Dean said, stepping forward. There it was-the charisma that made Cas fall in love with him in the first place.  
"Yes," Balthazar answered. "Honestly, Castiel, how you went from a graceful virgin to dating a Greek god in pyjamas I'll never understand."  
"Call it karma," Dean said. Cas laughed.  
"You sure have it coming to you, too," Balthazar said. "I hear Luci is arriving tonight?" Gabriel nodded.  
"Yep. It's not him I'm worried about, it's Michael," he said.  
"Mike's coming, too?" Balthazar asked sulkily.  
"We're praying for a snowstorm," Gabriel replied. Balthazar laughed and started to climb the stairs, with his bag slung over one shoulder.  
"I thought you stopped doing that years ago," he said.  
"Desperate times, Zar, desperate times," Gabriel said with a shake of his head.  


          "If you two wanna go to the beach, you should get ready now-it gets surprisingly hot surprisingly early," he advised Cas and Dean.  
"We will," Dean said. "Just let us finish our cereal."  
"I'm sorry," Gabriel said, following them into the dining room, "what was that you called my cereal earlier? 'Six year old cereal?'"  
"I take it back," Dean apologised. "Count Chocula is definitely the most adult of the chocolate flavoured cereals."  
"Damn right," Gabriel replied, corralling his Fruit Loops in his bowl. "I'm gonna run upstairs and check on Andrew," he added, taking his bowl and ascending the staircase.  
"Tell him good morning for me," Cas called after him.  
"Will do," Gabriel shouted back.  
 

        "I thought your brothers were twins?" Dean asked, setting their bowls on the kitchen counter.  
"Fraternal," Cas replied. "It's a common mistake. They have the same birthday, August 15th." He leaned his elbows on the counter.  
"So then what's with Balthazar's accent?" Dean said, sitting on the edge of the counter beside where Cas stood.  
"He moved to England as soon as he graduated high school. He's lived there almost exclusively since then."  
"Almost?"  
"He spends some time here, and some time in Spain with his pretentious art school friends," Cas explained.  
"He seems like the art school type," Dean agreed. "You ready to go to the beach?" he asked hopefully, jumping down from the counter top.  
"Oh, right. Sure," Cas answered distractedly. Dean furrowed his eyebrows.  


         "What's wrong, babe?"  
"No, nothing," Cas replied, shaking his head. "Just thinking."  
"About what?" Dean asked.  
"Nothing," Cas said dismissively. "Just my family. And tomorrow."  
"Don't worry about them," Dean said. "They'll just have to get over themselves."  
"I know. I'm not worried," he lied. The fact of the matter was, he'd already been nervous about his family meeting Dean, and now the arrival of Michael was just one more thing he had to concern himself with. Despite the burrowing into his mind, though, he decided that he would make himself forget about everything for a while and at least attempt to enjoy his last day of peace before the rest of his siblings descended on the house like carrion-hunting vultures.  
"Good." Dean smiled and grabbed his hand. "Come on, I wanna get to the beach before it gets too hot."  
"Yeah, alright," Cas said, smiling weakly and following him out of the room and up the stairs.  


         "Cas, come on, man," Dean pleaded. "I'll walk out with you. Hell, I'll even carry you," he offered. He was standing out in waist-high water, arms open wide, looking almost like a saint in an ancient painting. Cas, however, had his feet planted firmly on the sand, the water lapping at his toes.  
"Dean, I'm fine here, thank you," Cas replied resolutely.  
"But the water feels great!"  
"I know, Dean, it can feel it here as well," he answered, shuffling his feet in the shallow water.  
"Oh, come on!" Dean repeated. "Live a little!"  
"I'm living plenty," Cas said. It wasn't that he didn't like the water, more that it had always scared him. _Really,_ he thought, _concerned is more accurate._ But even after Cas refused to join Dean out in the deeper water, he continued to beg and prod like a child.  
"Give me one good reason you won't come out and I'll shut up about it," Dean said.  
"Dean, I-look. Deep water has always made me...wary," Cas explained searching for the word that made it sound less immature. "You have your fear of dogs, I have this. I wouldn't force you to wander around in a dog park," he pointed out. "This is different," Dean defended. "Dogs are actually dangerous. They could bite you."  
"I could drown," Cas said.  
"You're not gonna drown!" Dean said. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. Come on, the water feels really nice."  
"A shark could, potentially, bite one of us."  
"Please," Dean dismissed. "Sharks are nothing. All I've gotta do is punch them in the nose and they'll leave us alone." Cas sighed and shrugged.  
"Fine," he relented. Dean smiled and waded back into shore, walking beside Cas as he took cautious but definitive steps towards the deeper water.  


         "Toldya you'd be fine," Dean said when they'd made it out into waist-deep water.  
"I know. I don't know what I was so afraid of," Cas said, leaning against Dean. "Although you have to admit, the ocean is a dangerous place," he added. "Much of it is undiscovered. In fact, a recent study found-"  
"Oh, you know too much," Dean said. "Maybe you should read less."  
"That's awful advice," Cas said.  
"It came out wrong," Dean agreed. "What I mean is, maybe you shouldn't think about things so much. Just chill."  
"'Just chill'," Cas repeated. "I could get used to that. Although I might need some assistance."  
"I'd be happy to help you chill," Dean offered. "And you can loan me all the articles and studies and all that fancy shit you read all the time." Cas laughed.  
"It's not that fancy," he shrugged. "It's just a few scientific journals," he said, the irony lost on him. Dean smiled.  
"Just a few scientific journals?' You know, if somebody said to me, a month a four days ago, that I'd be dating a guy who regularly reads scientific journals, I would've laughed in their face. And now, here we are."  
"Here we are," Cas said, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth of the midday sun on his face.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's way late. I've been really busy, but luckily I've got a long weekend coming up, so I can catch up then. The next chapter should be posted sometime late next week. Thanks for reading, enjoy, and more soon!


	19. Let It Be

          They were walking down the shoreline, the waves lapping at their feet, when Dean asked, out of nowhere, "Would you ever get married?" Cas didn't even pause.  
"Yeah, I would," he answered. "To the right person." Over the last few days, the thought of marriage had been increasingly on his mind; maybe he was being naive, but the two of them seemed to be pretty serious about each other, and some fantastical and romantic part of him had always wanted to get married. But then, of course, there was the typical concern about his family and "what would everyone say?", as Naomi would repeat to him like a mantra when he was younger.  
"Would you?" he asked.  
"Probably, yeah," Dean said. "I'd really have to love the other person, though. I mean, really love them. I'd wanna be sure we could make each other happy." Cas smiled for a moment.  
"Why do you ask?" he said.  
"Just curious," Dean replied. After another pause, he asked, "To me?" Cas raised his eyebrows. "Hypothetically," he added. Cas nodded.  
"Yes, I do. I mean, will. I mean-" he said, stumbling over his reply.  
"I know what you mean, babe," Dean said with a small laugh. He looked at his feet, then back up at Cas. "Ya know, I've really liked spending the last couple days with you," he said. "I know they haven't been perfect, but I had fun." Cas smiled.  
"It's not over yet," he said.  
"No, I know. I just wanted to tell you."  
"Thank you," Cas replied. "I have too." And it was true, although as much as he was enjoying the moment, the eventual truth of his brothers' arrival, and all that that entailed, hung over his head like a guillotine. He knew too well how his siblings would react to him having a boyfriend, and there was no getting around it. No matter how many times he told them how happy he was, or how many times Gabriel and Dean would, doubtless, jump to his defence, there was no avoiding an argument. The only way he could ever solve it was if, somehow, they didn't find out about Dean, but obviously that was impossible. Castiel was not about to relegate his boyfriend away from his siblings just to make them comfortable, and there was no other way of hiding their relationship that he could think of. Until, that is, a convenient yet maddening thought came to him.  
 _What if we both just lied about the nature of our relationship?_ tempted the devious part of his brain. _Tell everyone you're platonic. Convince them he's just a friend, and all your problems are solved._ But even with that, there were obvious flaws. He knew he'd have to tell them eventually. The only choice he had was when he'd do it.  


          They walked the coast for a little while longer, until it got unbearably hot out and they returned to the house. Andrew had only just woken up when they'd arrived, and it was well after 12:00. When they got back, Gabriel gave them the good news, and then the inevitable bad news.  
"So, Luke's gonna be here a little earlier than we thought," he told Cas. They were standing in the kitchen, where Cas was trying to make lunch for the five of them, but failing on account of the fact that Gabriel's pantry was pretty much strictly junk food, alcohol, and chocolate.  
"Why?" Cas asked, digging through the fridge. It's sparse contents were all labeled with little Braille labels-Gabriel could be obnoxious, but nobody could ever say he wasn't accommodating to those select few he cared about.  
"'Cause the stars have aligned to ruin my week," Gabriel answered, sulkily. "And also cause they're bumping all the flights up an hour so they don't get delayed by that freaking tropical storm that's supposed to come blazing through the Midwestern US." "I don't suppose there's any good news?" Cas said, taking a bunch of bananas out of the fridge. "And what are these doing in here?"  
"Aren't you supposed to keep fruit in the fridge?" Gabriel asked, unusually innocently.  
"No," Cas said. "You're not." He set the bananas on the counter and shut the fridge door behind him.  
"Huh. See, where would I be without you, Cas?" he asked rhetorically. "There is actually good news," he added. "Andrew's legs will both be perfectly fine. A little scarring, and some serious physical therapy, but he'll he alright." Cas breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he muttered, out of habit.  
"For what?" Dean asked from the doorway. He was wearing a Metallica t-shirt and old sweatpants, his hair still wet and stuck up in the front from his shower.  
"Andrew's gonna be alright," Gabriel answered. "He should be up and around in two or so days." Dean smiled.  
"Awesome," he said, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a Coke, which he opened with one hand. "Gabe, you're almost out of Coke," he said over his shoulder.  
"Yeah, I know. I'm going to the store in a sec anyway. Cas keeps telling me I don't have enough produce," Gabriel said, a little disdainfully.  
"Don't feel bad," Cas said, "neither does Dean."  
"Hey, I'm working on it, babe," Dean pointed out, leaning against the counter next to Cas.  
"Slowly but surely," Cas agreed. Gabriel laughed under his breath, grabbing the keys off the counter and starting for the door. "I'll be back in a little," he called over his shoulder. "Don't break anything."  
"Oh, please," Dean called back. "Who do you think we are?"  
"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Gabriel said with a laugh as he opened the front door and walked out to his car, shutting it behind him with a thud.  


          "Come on, man, it's a landmark of American culture," Dean said. He and Cas were sitting on the massive, unbelievably comfortable sofa in the downstairs den of Gabriel's house, eating microwave popcorn. The opening scenes of The Shining played on the television, but Cas was buried in his new book on the evolution of religious figures. (Gabriel always kept Braille copies of a few pretentious books around his house, in case Cas dropped by.)  
"I'm sure it is," Cas replied. In reality, he was too distracted by the thought of the arrival of his family to think too much about anything. The thought of just lying to them all about Dean was becoming increasingly appealing; as the day his siblings would descend upon them neared, the whole ordeal became so much more real and impending to him, which only made him more worried.  
Cas took a deep breath and steeled his nerves as much as he could before asking, "Dean, how much does it matter to you that my siblings know we're in a relationship?"  
Dean turned the volume on the television down considerably till it was only a faint murmur in the background and said, "A little. Not a ton." After a moment, suspicion snuck into his voice.  
"Why?" Cas swallowed hard and closed his book, already having a very clear image of his Dean would react to his next statement.  
"I'm wondering if maybe we shouldn't tell them about us," he said carefully. Dean exhaled, clearly trying to retain his calm. "And instead of that, you think we should tell them what?" he asked, still remarkably relaxed.  
"We can tell them that we're platonic friends, and that you're only doing me a favour driving me down here. We'll tell them Meg is busy and I couldn't book a flight in time," Cas explained, still choosing his words carefully. Dean laughed dryly.  
"Wow," he said, "you've really thought this through. How long has this been your plan, exactly?" he asked.  
"Listen, Dean," Cas said, turning to face him. "I thought we could be honest with them, but since Michael is going to be here, we'll run the risk of upsetting him."  
"Oh, so what, it's all about him now?" Dean demanded, obviously getting angrier by the minute. "You know, you can't plan your life out just so you don't piss off your messed up older brother. That's not how family's supposed to work."  
"And you, of course, know so well how family is supposed to work, don't you?" Cas asked quietly, regretting it almost instantly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean replied.  
"I'm only saying, you can't act like your family has been so perfect and accepting. I mean, you haven't spoken to your father in years-"  
"Well at least talking to my siblings isn't like a game of Operation, where you always have to be careful you don't make one of them a little uncomfortable!" Dean shouted. "I mean, are you even out to your older brothers yet?" Cas was silent for a moment.  
"Of course I am," he said eventually. "I wouldn't lie to you about that."  
"So then what's the problem?" Dean asked, his voice returning to its normal volume. Cas took another deep breath.  
"They don't know I'm...practicing. They all expected me to just ignore it and move on, but of course it's not that easy," he said. "Dean, I just need you to understand. Just this once," he plead. Dean stood up and turned his back on Cas, who sat on the sofa looking absolutely dejected.  
"I had consequences too, you know. I took my punishment for being the way I was made. I didn't hide shit, not from anyone," Dean said. "And if you ever wanna move on with your life, if you ever wanna make something real out of..." He pointed between himself and Cas. "This, you're gonna have to do that too. I'm going for a drive," he said, walking out of the room. "I'll be back sometime." Cas listened to the thud of Dean's feet against the floor, the door open and Dean grab his keys from the table in the entryway, and the loud slam of the door after him. He put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, now hearing only the faint sounds of the movie and the waves against the beach.  


          Even with Andrew and Zar in the house, it felt painfully empty to Cas. He hadn't gotten up from the sofa ever since Dean stormed out and left him there, something he totally understood. If he were in the same situation-but then, Dean would never do that to him. Surely not.  
 _Look at how he faced down Lisa,_ Cas thought. _Or how he fought those teenagers back in Yamhill. And you can't even stand up to your own brother,_ he mocked himself. _He deserves someone who can handle his family, and that person obviously is not you. _He lifted his head for a moment when he heard soft footsteps on the stairs, before realising that the source of the sound was only Zar.  
__

           "Is that popcorn?" he called from the kitchen. Cas swallowed and nodded mutely.  
"Yes. You can have it." Balthazar walked into the den, furrowing his eyebrows when he noticed Cas, hunched forward and looking pretty pitiful.  
"Oh, God," he muttered, coming over to sit next to him. "What is it? Has that boyfriend of yours done something ridiculous?" Cas shook his head dejectedly.  
"I have," he said.  
Balthazar stuck a piece of popcorn in his mouth and said, chewing, "Doubt it. What's happened?" So Cas explained the whole saga to him, getting more and more humiliated as he went on. When he finally finished, Zar said, "I can hardly blame you." "Honestly?" Cas replied incredulously.  
"Yeah. Michael makes most everyone a little nervous. I mean, he's a twat. All three of them are. You just need to learn how to tell them all to go to hell," Zar said with a shrug.  
"It sounds so simple," Cas said, almost amused. "But what of Dean, then? He's not coming back easily."  
"Course he is," he replied. "He wants to come back. He's in love with you, genius. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have gotten so bloody pissed over the thought of not being able to show how much he loves you," he said plainly.  
"Now, listen. Go upstairs, change your clothes, clean your face, and come back. Distract yourself. Read a book or something. When he gets back, you two will have a mature conversation as though you're adults and within a few minutes you'll be back to normal, cute little nicknames and handsyness and all." He took the bowl of popcorn in his lap and changed the channel, turning up the volume.  
"And not a word of this to Gabe, either," he added. "If he finds out, he'll rip Boyfriend's head off and put it on a post in the front yard." Cas smiled weakly, sighed, and stood up.  
"I'm sure he will," he said. "Thank you, by the way, Balthazar," he called over his shoulder as he walked out.  
"Oh, think nothing of it," Zar replied. "Just doing my job."  


          Cas climbed the stairs quickly, checking in on Andrew as he passed.  
"How are you?" he asked, standing in the doorway. Andrew was lying in bed, reading a book about bird identification.  
"I'm good. Do you wanna go birdwatching tomorrow?" he asked. "We can go over to your balcony. Your boyfriend can come along," he suggested eagerly.  
"Yeah, that sounds perfect," Cas said. "Do you need anything?" Andrew shook his head.  
"No, thank you. Cas, are you alright?" he asked, cocking his head slightly and sitting up slightly in the hospital bed. _He is far too perceptive,_ Cas thought.  
"Never better," he lied. He had to admit, though, his conversation with Zar had improved his mood considerably. At least now he felt like walking around a little. He went back to his bedroom and changed his clothes, as per Balthazar's suggestion. While he rifled through his bags, he ran across Dean's jacket-he'd tucked it away in the bottom of the bag, so nothing would happen to it. He pulled it out for a moment, feeling the leather and inhaling the familiar smell, before replacing it carefully. The simple act of changing clothes made him feel better, for some reason he couldn't quite place. Maybe it was just that it gave him a chance to relax, but whatever the case, he felt so much less tense once he was in new clothes. He washed his face and returned downstairs, back to the den, where Zar was watching a documentary on Andy Warhol.  
"Feeling better?" he asked.  
"Much," Cas replied. He sat back down on the sofa and tried to pick back up in his book, but he was still a little impatient for Dean to return. Finally, after an hour of waiting and listening for a car in the driveway, the door was opened and Dean walked through.  


          Balthazar nudged Cas' arm slightly as soon as he noticed, and Cas stood up to meet him at the door.  
"Dean," he said plainly.  
"Cas," Dean replied. "Listen, I really need to talk to you. Come upstairs with me?" Cas nodded and followed him up the stairs and to their room.  


          "I-here, sit down," he said, sitting on the bed. Cas sat next to him, a respectful and but not cold distance away. "I feel kinda bad about walking out on you like that," he began. "I guess I just got pissed 'cause it makes me mad to think about you being scared of anything or anyone. I mean, you're so perfect, and you don't deserve all the shit people give you all the time. I'm sorry," he said, "I'm not exactly a big "feelings" kinda guy."  
"That's alright," Cas said. "Neither am I. But I should be the one apologising." He looked at the ground, then back towards Dean. "I was immature and a coward. You deserve someone who can handle their families."  
"Cas, I don't give a shit about who or what I deserve. I mean, I-I love you. And that's what's really important, I guess, isn't it?" he asked, watching Cas' eyes intently. "So as long as you still love me, there shouldn't be anything in the way of the two of us being happy together."  
"I do," Cas said. "I do love you. Nothing will ever change that. And I will make sure that everyone knows it." He smiled, certainly this time, as though he was finally on firm footing. Dean smiled back, slightly at first and then an all out grin, complete with quiet laughter.  
"What were we even worried about, anyway?" he asked, putting his hand over Cas'.  
"Something trivial, I'm sure," Cas answered. "To be honest, I can hardly even remember." He leaned over and kissed Dean on the lips, warm and wet and slow, surprising even himself. Dean kissed him back, once his initial shock had worn off, enveloping his arms around Cas' waist. Cas drew back for a moment to catch his breath.  
"You know, Dean, that hour when you were gone, it was the longest hour of my life," Cas said, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and laying back onto the bed, pulling Dean down with him.  
"Trust me," Dean said, kissing him quickly, "it was mine, too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter 19...revving up for the grand finale next chapter (is that a spoiler?). I'll post more soon-next Sunday, I'm thinking. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading!


	20. What Is Life

         They were lying in bed together, surrounded by a tangled mess of blankets, their breathing synchronised and ragged. Cas was lying with his head on Dean's chest, tracing every line of his ribs and the arms that held him. Downstairs, the front door opened and there was a sound of shoes on the marble floors and the rustle of grocery bags.  
"Here's hoping that's Gabriel," Cas muttered distractedly.  
"I thought you told me you wouldn't worry about your brothers anymore," Dean said, gently protective.  
"I won't, I won't," Cas promised. "But you can't blame me for not being excited." "I know," Dean said, setting his chin on the top of Cas' head. "Part of me's interested to meet them," he added.  
"That makes one of us," Cas mumbled. "Why on earth would you want to?"  
"Because," Dean said, "it'll be good to get it over with. And I'll bet you'll feel better, too. Being all the way out. Besides, then I'll have met everyone." Cas nodded, trying to look at it with the same optimism as Dean.  


         "When will I get to meet your father?" he asked innocently. Dean shook his head.  
"Never, if you're lucky. He's nothing but trouble," he replied dismissively.  
"Well, then, who will I ask for your hand?" Dean had to stifle a laugh.  
"Who's asking for who's hand?" he asked, eyebrows raised.  
"I thought you said you weren't opposed to the concept of marriage," Cas said, concern colouring his voice.  
"I'm not, I'm not," Dean reassured him hastily. "I just always figured I'd be doing the asking."  
"You do have this all planned out, don't you?"  
"Not much. Not too much, anyway." Cas smiled.  
"How much is "not too much?"" he asked teasingly.  
"Look, only a little," Dean replied, defensively but still smiling. "When Sam almost got married a few years back, I guess I kinda got bitten by the wedding bug. Never really seriously considered anything, though. I didn't actually think I'd ever find anyone, honestly. But look at me now," he added, half to himself.  
"What, you think I'm the one?" Cas asked. Dean's face reddened and he looked down shyly, for the first time in his life.  
"Well, yeah," he said, noncommittally at first and then more confidently, "Yeah, I do. I think you're the one." Now it was Cas' turn to blush.  
"So when you did this planning," Cas said, trying to calm back down from his newest title, "the one," "what did you plan?"  
"Nothing much," Dean said. "Just basic stuff. I figured we'd do it in a park somewhere, with grass and flowers and all the other wedding-y shit," he said, seriously at first and then flippantly. ""Wedding-y shit?"" Cas repeated with a laugh.  
"Yeah, you know. Guests and rehearsal dinners and caterers and suits and everything. Wedding-y shit."  
"I'll bet you'd look nice in a suit," Cas said.  
"I'm alright," Dean said with a shrug.  
"Oh, don't be so modest. You know, on the day we met, Meg said she bet she could bounce a quarter off your ass."  
"She did?" Dean asked. Cas could almost hear Dean's confidence increase.  
"I'm only repeating what I've been told," Cas said, feigning chastity.  
"Huh," Dean said, the same way one would in response to an interesting fact. "Maybe we'll test it out later," he added suggestively. "Although for now, I think we might oughta go downstairs and make sure your brother doesn't put more bananas in his fridge."  
"Yes, I suppose we should," Cas said reluctantly. "I don't know why he does that."  
"Neither do I. Even I know better, and that's really saying something," Dean joked.  
"Yes, it is," Cas agreed. He sat up languidly, rubbing his eyes. "Dean, have you seen my pants?" Dean scanned the room for a moment before handing Cas a hastily-removed pair of black pyjama pants that hung rejected over the footboard.  
"Here ya go," he said. "I think your shirt's over there by you." The two of them got dressed quickly, especially considering their clothes had been "flung to the four winds," as Cas so aptly put it, and were walking down the stairs when they heard the door open yet again and the sound of hard-soled shoes on the downstairs floor, followed by the sound of a suitcase being set down. Cas took a deep breath and opened the door.  
"After you," he said, adding meanignfully, "I insist." Dean laughed, slipping his arm around Cas. "Don't worry, babe. We'll be perfectly fine."  


         Andrew was fast asleep yet again when they passed his room on the way downstairs. "We should check on him," Cas suggested in a desperate attempt to buy himself some time before he'd have to speak with Lucian, who doubtless lurked downstairs, already thinking of ways to insult him.  
"Oh, no you don't," Dean replied, obviously not falling for anything. "You've gotta face your fears, Cas. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"  
"Don't say that. Please don't say that," Cas said.  
"What?" Dean teased. "You think I'll jinx it?"  
"Yes."  
"I had no idea you were so superstitious," Dean said.  
"Growing up surrounded by religion, something has to rub off," Cas explained as they walked down the hall and to the top of the stairs.  
"Come on, Cas, we'll be fine," Dean said earnestly, taking his hand and leading him down the steps. "Don't be nervous. He can probably smell fear." Cas resignedly followed him down the steps like a man on his way to the gallows.  
"Just, try not to make him mad," Cas said.  
"Who, me?" Dean asked, grinning.  


         When they arrived in the kitchen, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Lucian all stood in their separate sections-Balthazar was pouring himself a drink ( _And who could blame him,_ Cas thought when he heard the clink of ice into a short glass), Gabriel was doing his level best to accurately put away the produce he'd just bought, and Lucian leant against the countertop, looking on.  
"Cas!" Gabriel exclaimed when he walked in, as though they hadn't spoken in ages.  
"Hello Gabriel," Cas said evenly. "How was the store?"  
"Alright. Hey, where do you put the lettuce?" Gabriel asked.  
"Crisper drawer," Cas answered. "It should be labeled somehow. You bought lettuce?"  
"Toldya I was working on it," Gabriel said. "Lucian's here, by the way," he added disdainfully. "Hello, Cassie. Long time, no shouting match," Lucian said, leaning off the counter. "Who's this?" he asked, inclining his head towards Dean.  
Cas restored his confidence, and, spurred on by a discreet nudge by Dean, said, "Lucian, this is my boyfriend. His name is Dean Winchester."  
 _Like ripping off a bandaid,_ Cas thought. No yelling had ensued yet, which was far longer than he'd gotten in the past, and then he wasn't doing much more than saying hello. Now, he'd introduced his boyfriend, and Lucian was still silent. He blinked and glanced between the two men, Cas clutching Dean's hand with a white knuckle grip, before shrugging nonchalantly.  
"Alright," he said eventually. "Hello, Dean. I'm Lucian, Cas' older brother. Nice to meet you."  
"Nice to meet you too," Dean says, but it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. Finally, as usual, Gabriel said what was on everyone's minds.  
"And you're okay with this?" Lucian nodded.  
"They're adults. They're obviously in love. What business is it of mine, who sticks what into whom?" he said casually. Gabriel, at this point, reverted to five year old mode, visibly trying with all his might not to giggle.  
Of course, I can't promise I won't tease you two endlessly, but I don't have any problem with the relationship in itself," Lucian added.  
"Awesome," Dean said, and with that, Cas relaxed his viselike grip on Dean's hand and Dean threaded his arm around Cas' waist, with his fingertips teasingly close to the jut of Cas' hip. The tension that filled the room like a haze earlier faded and left only the slight chill, inherent to even the closest-knit family gathering.  


         Gabriel, Dean, Lucian and Cas sorted produce into the midnight hours; by 1:00, Cas is certain he'll be repeating the different types of lettuces in his sleep. It seemed Gabriel has bought the whole produce store, in an effort to be healthier, along with absurd amounts of gelato ("it was in a Greenlife," he rationalised as the four of them finished cramming cartons of every flavour known to man into the freezer, "how unhealthy could it possibly be?"). As Dean and Cas walked up the stairs, they heard Gabriel say, "I don't know what it is they're gonna do up there, but somehow, I doubt it will be sleeping." Dean smiled smugly at Cas and grabbed his ass, making absolutely no attempt at discretion.  
"I doubt it, too," Dean said into Cas' ear, his voice so low it sounded almost animal. An eager smile quirked Cas' lips as he followed Dean quickly up the stairs.  


         Within what felt like seconds, Dean was pinning Castiel to their bedroom door, with the tie hastily knotted around the doorknob. His hands gripped the collar of Cas' t-shirt for dear life, repeating his name between deep and hungry kisses, the kind Cas had come to love. Cas trailed his hands down Dean's sides, resting them on the curve of his hips. Dean's lips wandered along Cas' jaw and down his throat, leaving fresh bruises in their wake and ripping unabashed gasps from his lips. It was the kind of kiss that made his knees feel weak, the kind that he could feel in the pit of his stomach, the kind that sent anticipation licking down his sides like flames. He tangled his fingers in the honey-coloured tendrils of Dean's hair, wishing he could be everywhere and in contact with every part of Dean at once.  
"Damn, Cas," Dean breathed, his breath warm against Cas' skin, "you're perfect, you know that? You're the most perfect, gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Dean's eyes scanned Cas as though they were trying to memorise every inch of him, from what he'd affectionately deemed his "perpetual sex hair" to his disheveled shirt to the pants he wore that fit him perfectly, clinging in all the right places, to his curled toes. Dean drew him over to the bed, which was still in absolute disarray from that afternoon. Dean collapsed onto the bed, pulling Cas down with him. It was times like this that he wanted most to see Dean; to count the freckles that grazed his nose and cheeks, to stare into the endless greenness of his eyes, to see the lips that were now pressing into the hollow of his neck. And for a moment, when he closed his eyes, it felt as though he could; in front of him, in his mind's eye, was Dean Winchester, with sandy blond hair cut short, a scar, faded with age but still traceable, along the line of his jaw, and capable but careful hands at the end of leather-jacket-clad arms. The underside of Cas' curled-toe foot brushed his, and he felt Dean's lips against his collarbone itching into a wide, goofy smile.  


         "Dean, are you ticklish?" he asked, as though it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "What? No," Dean argued, with a grin audible in his voice. Cas, with eyebrows raised in playful incredulity, brushed his foot along the sole of Dean's again. Dean laughed quietly, shifting out from underneath him.  
"Oh, you definitely are," Cas said, following him to the foot of the bed. He wriggled his fingers slightly against the underside of Dean's foot; Dean tried to shove Cas away, feet kicking wildly into the air, but he continued tickling at his sides and feet until they were both reduced to a laughing heap, giggling like schoolchildren.  
"Cas, quit!" Dean gasped between peals of loud laughter. "Stop it! Stop! Cas!" Dean managed eventually to pull his away from him, turning the tables in one swift move and trapping Cas between him and the bed. Dean's breath was hot on Cas' neck, their cheeks still flushed from their laughter-filled game of cat-and-mouse.  
"Dean," Cas said finally, after a long while of comfortable quiet, "as much as I hate to say this, it's well last 3:00, and in all honesty, I am already incredibly tired." It was true; it was all he could do to keep from yawning. Dean sighed dramatically, rolling onto his back next to Cas.  
"So you think you can just tickle me until I about cry, and then pull the "I'm too tired" card?" he asked teasingly.  
"That was the plan," Cas replied.  
"Fine," Dean said, sitting up. "But before too long, it is gonna be payback time," he promised. He stood up on the bed and pulled the light cord hanging from the fan, crawling into bed.  
"I'm looking forward to it," Cas challenged with raised eyebrows, lying next to him. Dean drew the warm blankets up over them, turning to face him.  
"Mm, I'll bet you are," he said, already dozing off.  


         Castiel was only barely asleep, despite his tiredness; every inch of his body felt almost hypersensitive. He stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, lost in his own mind. Dean had told him, and he knew, that tomorrow would be fine, and nothing would go wrong in the slightest, but that didn't stop the nagging and nervous feeling in the back of his mind. He furrowed his eyebrows and said cautiously, "Dean. Dean." Dean shifted in his sleep.  
"Baby," Cas repeated. This got Dean's attention. With the hand that wasn't wrapped tightly around Cas, he rubbed his eyes.  
"What is it, angel?" he asked, his words thickened with sleep. Cas smiled slightly. This was his new favourite nickname from Dean. He liked the way the word rolled easily off his tongue, the way it sounded on his lips in the low gruffness of his voice.  
"You're sure we'll be okay tomorrow?" Cas asked.  
"Of course, Cas. We're always okay. Nothing's gonna go wrong." Dean rubbed Cas' back consolingly, Cas' muscles relaxing underneath his fingers. "Just go back to sleep, baby. Don't worry about it." Cas nodded slowly, slipping back to sleep with welcome ease.  


         The next morning, it wasn't a nightmare that woke Cas up. It was the quiet humming of Dean and the warm smell of dark black coffee that filled the room. Cas yawned, stretched, and sat up in the bed.  
"Good morning, Dean," he said.  
"Morning, Cas. Coffee?" Dean offered, sitting down in the bed next to Cas.  
"Yes, please." Dean handed him the coffee and smiled.  
"How'd you sleep?" he asked.  
"Well," Cas answered. "Very, actually. The best I've had in years." And he meant it. The nightmare hadn't returned that night, and after he'd spoken to Dean, any and all concern about his family he had vanished like a fog.  
"I've heard being tired helps," Dean said smugly.  
"Yes, well, I absolutely was tired. So you've been downstairs, I take it?" Dean nodded.  
"Everyone seems to be in a good mood. Gabriel's eating his Count Chocula. Zar's reading a book. Lucian is-get this-watching Dr. Sexy." Cas laughed. "Right?" Dean agreed. "Oh, and I talked to Andrew. He's fine. Wants to go birdwatching with you later on." Cas smiled.  
"We should go together. The three of us. Maybe Andrew and I can teach you a few things." "Yeah, that'd be great," Dean replied. "And Gabriel told me to tell you that the Michael, Naomi, and her little flying monkeys are gonna show up right in time for the party." Cas sighed and nodded understandingly.  
"Don't worry, angel," Dean said. "I'll be right beside you the whole time. Which reminds me, I still need to teach you how to dance."  
"I'm afraid it won't be easy, Dean," Cas said. "I have, as they say, two left feet."  
"It's okay," Dean said. "I've got two right feet, so together we make a pair." He kissed Cas on the forehead, inhaling the smell of coffee and clean laundry.  


         "Okay, so put one hand here," Dean instructed, setting Cas' hand on his shoulder, "and hold my hand with the other."  
"Like this?" Cas asked, rolling his shoulders and straightening his back, which was warmed by the sun streaming through the open balcony. They stood in the middle of their bedroom, hand in hand, standing far closer than was probably socially acceptable.  
"Perfect. And you act like you don't know what you're doing."  
"You haven't seen me try to dance yet. Now, I shudder to ask, what happens next?" Dean laughed.  
"Don't panic." Dean set his hand on Cas' hip and said, "Alright. I'm gonna lead, until you know how the dance goes. It's a waltz. So, first, I'm going to step forwards with my right foot, and you're going to step backwards with the same foot. Okay?"  
"Sounds easy enough," Cas shrugged.  
"Told ya. Here we go." Dean stepped forward, and Cas stepped back in perfect sync. Of course, in reality, it was nothing, but this was the first time Cas had danced a proper dance with someone he wanted to dance with.  
"See, that wasn't bad. Now, as you step back, you've gotta kind of turn so you're facing the window. The rule is, you should always be stepping backwards. And if you're doing that, you're doing it right. Make sense?"  
"I think so, yes," Cas said. After a few tries and some stepped-on toes all the way around, they were sweeping across the floor as though they'd been dancing for years.  
"Where'd you learn to do this, Dean?" Cas asked as they glided across the bedroom floor. "Sam demanded that I learn. It was for his wedding. He wanted me to dance with a bridesmaid. Crazy, I know."  
"I'm not complaining," Cas said.  
"Good. And by the way, all that stuff about you having two left feet is ridiculous," Dean added. "I stepped on your toes! Four times!" Cas pointed out.  
"So? You can't expect to go from total novice to Fred Astaire in five seconds. Anyway, your gracefulness makes up for it."  
"Gracefulness?" Cas asked. They still danced across the floor, although now Dean had decided his hand would be better placed on Cas' ass.  
"Sure. What, you, the walking dictionary, haven't heard the word?"  
"Of course I have, I've just never heard it applied to me."  
"Well, that's because nobody's ever had the pleasure of with you before," Dean said.  
"Or because I've never had the pleasure of dancing with you," Cas suggested.  
"It's a combination, I think," Dean said.  


        30 minutes before the party even officially began and the house was already in disarray. Not only had half of Gabriel's guests just opted to arrive early, Balthazar had also opted to invite his art school buddies, who had decided to be "fashionably dickheaded," as Gabriel had so poetically put it, and show up not only early, but also mostly drunk. Even Lucian was in his room avoiding the crowd. The only thing that had panned out as of yet was, much to Cas' irritation, their costumes.  
"This is childish," Cas said, smoothing down his white t-shirt. "Only children dress up in Halloween costumes."  
"That is not true. I dressed up last year," Dean argued, toying with his hair in the massive bathroom mirror.  
"Case in point," Cas teased.  
"Shut up," Dean replied jokingly. "You agreed to this, you know, back in Huntingdon."  
"I was under the influence," Cas explained weakly.  
"Of what?" Dean asked incredulously.  
"Part Count Chocula, part you. It proved to be a dangerous cocktail."  
"Me, dangerous?"  
"Apparently."  
"I can believe it," Dean said with a shrug. "Come on, just tonight. What's a Han Solo without his Luke Skywalker, anyway?"  
"You know he was with Leia in the films," Cas pointed out.  
"Hey, if you want to glue two cinnamon buns to either side of your head, be my guest, Cas. But I think you're more of a Luke," Dean replied.  
"You think I'm a whiny orphan?" Cas joked, feigning woundedness.  
"Hey, how do you think I feel? You seem to think I'm a...actually, no, I literally cannot think of any bad things about Han Solo."  
"A deceitful, violent lawbreaker with a bad temper," Cas suggested.  
"Damn. That was fast," Dean observed.  
"I used to make lists about why he was a bad person so I wouldn't mind not being able to ever have pursue a real relationship with him," Cas admitted. Dean laughed.  
"What?" Cas asked obliviously. Dean shook his head, still laughing.  
"You're such a dork," he said.  
"That's as the case may be, but I'm your dork," Cas said, leaning over and kissing Dean chastely on the lips.  


        Cas and Dean walked down the front staircase into the sea of people that swarmed at it's foot.  
"Now, Dean," Cas began, seeming as though he was settling in for a lecture, "I will not be deceptive about the nature of our relationship, but I would appreciate it if you could restrain yourself on the whole "physical contact" front."  
"What?" Dean pouted like a child.  
"Trust me, it's not that I dislike it somehow, it's only that you seem to be of the mind that if you're not constantly touching my ass, it might dissolve like a cloud of smoke, and I can assure you that is not the case," Cas said. This was far from what he wanted. If it were up to him, Dean and he would always be touching, whether it was holding hands or something more sensational. But despite the fact he wasn't about to change to accommodate his siblings, he had to adhere to some degree of social norms, and that meant the constant contact could not continue. "Hand holding is still permissible," Cas said, offering Dean his hand.  
"Besides," he added in a low whisper, "I'm told that the longer you wait, the better it gets." Dean smiled and raised his eyebrows.  
"I guess we'll find out about that later on. But for now, I'll try to keep my hands to myself."  
"Thank you, Dean." He kissed him quickly on the cheek for the last time that night. "Great is your reward in Heaven."  
"How great?" Dean pried.  
"Be patient and you'll find out," Cas answered, with a not-wholly-innocent tone.  
"I do like the sound of that," Dean said, following him into the churning crowd.  


        "Hey!" Gabriel shouted from the dining room. The white doctors coat he wore billowed out slightly behind him as he walked over to meet them.  
"Cas, Dean, this is Kali. Kali, this is my brother Cas and his boyfriend Dean." The tan skinned woman smiled and nodded at them.  
"Hello," Dean said. His grip on Cas' hand was nothing short of white knuckle, though of course Cas didn't mind in the least. _I suppose he's going to take what he can get,_ Cas thought, but his thought process was interrupted by the yipping of dogs that signalled Naomi's arrival.  
"Shit," Dean said. "Has everyone in this house got a goddamn dog?" he whispered to Cas. "Or so it would seem," Cas agreed.  
"Kali, I've gotta go do some damage control from my sister. You can come with, but I really wouldn't recommend it," Gabriel said, walking out of the dining room and back into the sea of people. Kali, despite his recommendation, followed him, as did Cas and Dean.  
"The sooner we get this over with, the better," Cas told him as they weaved through the mass of people.  
"Alright," Dean said. "Let's do this, then." Naomi, when they finally found her, was making her way through the crowd towards them, proceeded by two fur-covered Pomeranians and with another in her arms.  
"It's like she's got a little canine posse," he muttered.  
"Surely you're not still afraid of dogs," Cas asked.  
"Not of these," Dean said with distaste. "They're like furry rats. I'm more afraid I'll step on them." "Do it," Gabriel muttered over his shoulder. "I'll pay you." He turned back to Naomi, who was looking unamused. Her brown hair, pulled back into a tight bun, only added to the angular coldness of her sharp eyes and black pantsuit.  
"Naomi," Gabriel said coldly. It was less of a greeting and more of a simple labelling. "So you're dressed up as a buzzkill, I see," he said, crossing his arms tightly.  
"Hello, Gabriel," she said. "And what are you supposed to be? Not that deviant doctor, surely?" "What can I say? It fits."  
"Parties are a sin, you know, Gabriel," she said convictedly.  
"Yes, and so is casting judgement on others, but that's never stopped you before, Naomi," Cas said under his breath. Naomi turned her stare on he and Dean.  
"Castiel. And who is this?" She gestured at Dean flippantly.  
"Naomi, this is my boyfriend, Dean," Cas said, the undertone of defiance running through his words.  
"Boyfriend. I thought you were denying yourself," Naomi asked, in the same judgemental tone Cas had heard so many times before.  
"Is that jealousy I hear, Naomi?" Cas asked teasingly. The dogs padded towards him, their claws clipping against the floor.  
"Absolutely not," she answered, sounding offended.  
"Well, I wouldn't blame you," Cas said. Dean squeezed Cas' hand encouragingly and Cas smiled-not his typical, shy smile. This one was bold, broad, the kind that seemed to issue a challenge. It was a rarity on Castiel's lips.  
"Where is Lucian?" Naomi asked after all moment of silence. Cas got the very clear sense that for once, she was the one who was at a loss for words.  
"Upstairs, probably," Gabriel said. "Lucky for us, by the way," he added to Cas and Dean, "Michael's flight is delayed. Hopefully he just won't show."  
"I do not understand why you don't like him, Gabriel. He does nothing but provide for you," Naomi said. Gabriel laughed dismissively.  
"He's a dick, Naomi. I know you probably can't tell through your little Jesus goggles, but the only thing he provides is therapy fuel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a party to host," he said before following Kali deeper into the crowds. Cas and Dean headed in the opposite direction, still holding hands and leaving Naomi dumbfounded, with only her little rat dogs for willing company.  


        "That was awesome, Cas," Dean said as they walked off, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Not to mention incredibly hot," he added. "You know, you and that crooked grin of yours are making self-restraint very difficult." Cas smiled. "See, there you go again," Dean scolded teasingly. They slipped past a group of mostly drunk models and into a quieter corner of the room, where the art majors, who seemed to have sobered up, were discussing the nuances of Dali.  
"Believe me," Cas agreed, "the case is the same for me. But the party will be over soon enough, and then you can touch me wherever you want," he promised into Dean's ear.  
"I'm gonna take you up on that one," Dean replied. "Come on, though, Cas. I mean, what's the point of teaching you how to dance if we're never going to?"  
"We will, Dean," Cas said.  
"When?" Dean whined, like a pouty child.  
"Soon," Cas said. "I promise." The sound of cowboy boots against the marble floors heralded Gabriel's arrival.  
"Cas, I've gotta say, that, back there-that was badass. Don't you ever tell me you're not brave enough to handle that animal hoarding bitch," he said.  
"It was really nothing remarkable," Cas dismissed modestly.  
""Nothing remarkable?" Cas, I'm pretty sure nobody's ever talked to Naomi like that in her sad little life, and you finally did it. That's pretty damn impressive, if you ask me," Gabriel said. "And it's definitely a good excuse for a dance," Dean added coaxingly.  
Cas smiled, sighed, and said, "Alright, Dean. You've been very patient."  
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean muttered, leading Cas out to the foot of the stairs by the hand. "You know I'm totally gonna embarrass you," Gabriel called down to them, climbing up the stairs. "Yes, I assumed you would," Cas said resignedly. There wasn't, though, much Gabriel could do that would actually embarrass him. At this point, Cas had an almost brazen disregard for other's opinions of him. There wasn't much anyone could say that he wouldn't hesitate to say himself, although if there was anything, Gabriel would be certain to find it.  


        "Alright, alright, everyone," Gabriel called down from the top of the steps. The room fell silent. That was one of the things Cas had always admired about Gabriel-he could command a room without saying or doing much at all. "Listen. This is my brother, Cas, and his boyfriend, Dean." He gestured down at where the two of them stood; those around them stepped back, anxious to be mistaken for the couple.  
"They're about to have their-what is this, your first dance together?" he asked. Cas nodded. "Aw. Isn't that cute. My virginal baby brother, growing up so fast." Some of the guests, including Dean, laughed. Cas' cheeks reddened slightly. Naturally, Gabriel had managed to make him blush despite himself. "Cas, are you sufficiently embarrassed?" Cas nodded emphatically.  
"Definitely, thank you, Gabriel."  
"No problem. Humiliation is my goal," he added to Cas. "So now that Cas is red faced enough to be mistaken for a tomato, I think I've done my job. You all can go back to whatever sinning you were doing before," he said with a pointed glance at Naomi, who stood fuming in a corner. The guests laughed as Gabriel ran down the stairs, clapping Cas proudly on the shoulder as he passed.  
"Dean, may I have this dance?" he asked, offering his hand. This was going to be his first ever formal dance, and he was going to make it memorable. Dean took it, their fingers entwining. "Castiel, I thought you'd never ask." The pace of the music slowed as Cas and Dean danced, awkwardly at first; Dean stepped on Cas' toes, just barely, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, babe, I'm a little nervous." Cas laughed under his breath.  
"You're nervous?" he replied incredulously.  
"I know," Dean agreed. "Believe it or not, even tough macho guys like me get nervous. 'Specially around guys like you."  
"Guys like me?"  
"Sure. Do I really have to tell you again, just how damn awesome you are?" Cas shrugged, almost falling over his own feet. Dean righted him almost instantly, smiling wide in the way that wrinkled the corners of his green eyes.  
"It's always nice to hear," Cas said, leaning his head against Dean's chest.  
"I love you, Cas," Dean said.  
"I know."  


         The front door swung open with such force it hit the wall and bounced off, and Michael stepped inside. Starting around him and spreading back through the old and raucous crowd, silence covered the room like a wave. Dean and Cas stopped still; Dean lifted his head to see over the people.  
"Cas, what does Michael look like?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Cas sighed inwardly; he had to know this moment was coming, but he wished he could hold it off for just a little longer. "Tall. Blond. With kind of a perpetually irritated and condescending expression," Cas replied. "Yeah. That's him, alright." Michael, all anger and shock, stomped through the crowd, who parted like the Red Sea in front of them. Down the stairs from the other side of the room came Lucian, flanked by Hester and Anna.  
"Jesus, it's like a Mexican standoff," Dean muttered, watching wide-eyed. When Michael had made it to the small pocket of space where Dean and Cas stood, with Dean's hand still possessively around Cas' waist, he shouted in outrage, "What in God's name is going on here?"  
"God has nothing to do with this," Naomi agreed, stepping out of the crowd to stand beside him. She was followed by her troupe of what Dean had affectionately dubbed, "rodents pretending to be dogs," which somehow took away from her otherwise menacing stare.  
"Oh, what do you know about God?" Lucian asked. "You just use his name to persecute people-your own family, no less."  
"Ah, Lucian," Michael said with cold respect. "Those devil horns suit you." Lucian narrowed his eyes.  
"Now what's got you so put off, Mikey? Your halo on too tight?" Michael gave him a withering look.  
"Don't even bother, Lucian. I'm not here for you."  
"Who is it you're here for, then, Michael?" Cas asked.  
"Castiel," Michael said, his tone changing on a dime from hostile to caring. "Who is this?" he demanded, concern growing in his voice.  
"This is my boyfriend, Dean." Michael stared at him, a blend of alarm and rage.  
"You got a problem with us, Mikey?" Dean challenged, raising his eyebrows at Michael. He narrowed his eyes and pointed a condemning finger at Dean.  
"You. This is your fault. Castiel was abstaining until you came along and damned him!" he accused.  
"Don't you ever talk to Dean like that again, Michael," Cas said-practically snarled-stepping out in front of Dean. "I make my own decisions, unlike you. If I am damned, it was nobody's fault but mine."  
"Castiel, we're just trying to save you," Naomi said with feigned innocence.  
"He doesn't need to be saved, Naomi," Gabriel said, stepping into the quite literal ring formed by the fascinated crowd, with Chewy following loyally behind him. He growled menacingly at Naomi's yippy legion of Pomeranians, who cowered behind her. "In fact, I'd say you need saving, far more than anyone else here."  
"At least _I'm_ not an abomination," Naomi said, looking pointedly at Castiel. The words hit him like a ton of bricks-they shouldn't, but they did.  


_Abomination?_  


Dean set his jaw and glanced up at the ceiling, obviously making a concerted effort not to rip Naomi's head from her body and feed it to her little ratlike dogs.  
"Don't talk to him like that," Dean said, simmering rage bubbling under his cool exterior. "Don't you dare talk to him like that again."  
"You have no right to come in here, lead my brother to Hell-" Michael began self-righteously, but an unexpected voice from the stairs cut him off.  
"Stop! Both of you!" It was Anna-shy, quiet redheaded Anna, who kept to herself and was an adamant pacifist. "This is ridiculous. You can't fight like this, not now. With Andrew recovering from his injuries, we need to be able to work together, or at least pretend to, for his sake."  
"I'm only trying to save your souls," Michael said piously. "God knows you need it. You lie, and cheat, and drink, and commit abominations before The Lord-"  
"And that's just today," Lucian muttered.  
"Damn it, that is enough!" Gabriel shouted over the both of them. "Lucian, Michael, you get your asses out to the time-out house and think about what you've done. Naomi, take those little furry weasels of yours and go upstairs. Everyone else, get the hell out of my house until I can figure out exactly what to do about these dickheads I'm related to." The guests stood in silence, staring between Lucian, Castiel, Michael, and Gabriel, waiting for who would speak first. "Well?" Gabriel prompted, shooing the guests off like unwanted animals. Slowly, they trickled out. Lucian stomped off to the guest house, followed by Michael, and their arguing could be heard from the main house. Naomi, chased off by Chewy, took her dogs and her last shred of dignity and walked up the stairs, past Gabriel and Cas and Dean.  


         "One of these days," Gabriel muttered when Naomi, Michael, and Lucian had all gone, "their halos are gonna slip down and choke them."  
"Yeah, well, if that doesn't happen soon enough, I'll do it myself," Dean promised. He led Cas to the foot of the steps, where they sat down.  
"Angel, you okay?" he asked, rubbing small and calming circles into Cas' back. Cas smiled halfheartedly.  
"That's an odd nickname for me," he replied. Dean sighed.  
"Cas, you didn't take any of that bullshit seriously, did you?"  
"I don't know, Dean. When you've been told something enough times, it starts to seep in, whether you believe it or not," Cas admitted. "Do you?"  
"To be honest, I dunno what I believe anymore. But there's one thing I know for certain, and it's that I love you, and no damnation or sermon or anything is gonna change that. Okay?" Cas nodded.  
"Okay, Dean. Thank you." He put his arm around Cas' waist, drew him closer, and kissed his forehead quickly.  
"Don't mention it, babe."  


_________________________

         Cas straightened his tie and tugged anxiously on the sleeves of his black blazer, shifting his feet. "Have you spoken to Dean yet?" he asked Meg over his shoulder. She smoothed down her dress and said, "Yes. He's fine. Probably more nervous than you are."  
"Somehow I doubt that," Cas said. "Where is he?"  
"Now Clarence, you should know better than to try and talk to the groom before the wedding." "That's an antiquated practice, and you know it," he dismissed.  
"It's tradition!"  
"Meg, in case you haven't yet noticed, this wedding is not quite traditional," Cas argued.  
"Which is why the little bit of tradition you've still got is so valuable," Meg replied. "And anyway, won't waiting make it so much more exciting, when you finally do see him?"  
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he said grudgingly. "Do I look okay?" Meg got up from the chair she was reclining in and straightened the hem of his jacket, mussing up his hair a little before stepping back and framing him with her fingers, as though she was taking a photograph. "Incredible," Meg said. There was a knock on the door and Gabriel stepped through.  
"Cassie, they're ready," he said. Cas smiled, took a deep breath, and nodded.  
"Alright," he said, maintaining his cool surprisingly well-but not for long. "I'm really getting married, Meg," he said as they walked down the hall, following Gabriel down the stairs and out of the small building, to the park where Dean and the guests waited.  
"Yeah, Cas," Meg agreed with a nod. "This is, what, the eighth time you've mentioned it? In the last, like half hour?"  
"But I'm really getting married. Really really. I never thought this day would come, Meg." He sighed, brushing the spot where his ring would soon be with his thumb. "Married," he repeated to himself.  
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and said, "I'm really proud of you, Castiel." He shrugged halfheartedly, his cheeks tinged with blush. "I mean it. I've been waiting for this day as long as you have-longer, even. And I expect to get thanked in the speech at dinner, too."  
"Yes, you will, as promised. Now we've got to set you up with somebody," he said. She shook her head.  
"Not so fast, Clarence. You know, for as attractive as he is, I would've expected him to have hotter friends."  
"I'm told his brother's not that bad," Cas tempted with raised eyebrows.  
"Now, you've never mentioned a brother," Meg chided. "In all seriousness, though, Cas, Dean Winchester is a very lucky man." They arrived at the back door of the chapel, where Cas paused to catch his breath.  
"Alright," Meg said, clapping him on the back. "I'm gonna walk down. Go get 'im, tiger." She smiled at him over her shoulder as she strode down the aisle, the doors swinging closed after her. "Cas, you ready?" Gabriel asked quietly.  
"I've been ready for two years, Gabriel," Cas said confidently.  
"Alright, Cas. Let's go make you official."  


         He opened the doors to the park and Gabriel led him down their makeshift aisle. At the other end, Dean, his grooms-individuals (as Charlie had demanded they were called) Charlie and Kevin, his best man Sam, and Bobby, who had (surprisingly) offered to officiate, stood under the trellis arch, waiting. It took every bit of self control Cas had not to sprint down the aisle, although Gabriel's hand on his shoulder also had something to do with it. When he finally arrived at the other end of the aisle, Dean took Castiel's hands, the sleeves of his leather jacket brushing familiarly against Cas' wrists, and said quietly, "Cas, you look amazing."  
"Hey," Bobby said gruffly, "hands off till the vows are over with." Dean reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides and the guests laughed; Gabriel, Dean, and Cas' laughter contained maybe a tinge of irony.  


         "Now," Bobby began, leaning forward and holding the edges of the podium in from of him, "I've known Dean Winchester since he still thought boys were icky, and trust me, that was a long time ago." More laughter, especially loud from Dean and Sam. "And to be honest, I never figured he'd end up with somebody like Castiel. But I'm glad he did, and I can safely say that seeing these two boys getting married has made me the happiest man alive." Cas smiled and tried to swallow the ever-growing lump in his throat.  
"Sam, the rings?" Bobby said, putting out his hand. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of identical platinum bands, with "love" written in Braille on the inside, pressing them into Bobby's palm.  
"Boys, you ready with your vows?" They both nodded, Cas afraid that if he spoke he'd start to tear up. "Dean, you first," Bobby said. Dean cleared his throat and recited his vows from practiced memory, with the occasional crack in his voice.  
"I, Dean Winchester, promise to love you, Castiel Milton, for the rest of my natural life, and probably longer, depending on how far science gets in the next fifty or so years. I promise to always ask you before insulting your siblings. I promise to talk you into the things that're best for you and out of the things that aren't. I promise to be your constant and willing supply of dopamine, whenever you need it." Cas laughed quietly, and Dean teasingly chided in a barely audible whisper, "Stop it, Cas, you'll throw me off." He cleared his throat and regain sat his composure after a moments pause.  
"I promise to keep my hands to myself when you ask me to, and never any other time. I promise to write flattering articles about you and drag you with me on all my assignments. I promise to coax you into deep water and teach you how to relax. I promise to introduce you to classic American cinema. I promise to convince you every day that you are deserving of everything you have and so much more. I promise to eat more vegetables, or at least not drink Coke with breakfast. I promise to get over my fear of dogs and perfect my Braille reading. And most of all, I promise that whatever we have to endure, we'll endure it together." Bobby handed Dean Cas' ring with a small, sentimental smile. "Cas?" As they'd rehearsed so many times, Dean took Cas' hand. "Cas, you're shaking," Dean said quietly. Cas laughed under his breath.  
"I know. So are you," he replied. The wedding party laughed. With unsurprising steadiness, Dean slid the ring onto Cas' finger. He flexed his hand, unused to the feeling of a ring on it. Dean smiled and exhaled, relieved.  
"Cas?" Bobby prompted. Cas, twisting his new ring, took a deep and nerve-steeling breath and nodded.  
"I, Castiel Milton, promise to love you, Dean Winchester, until my dying day and beyond. I promise to put up with all your idiosyncrasies, because those are what make you, you, and what make you, mine. I promise to proofread your articles critically, but not belligerently. I promise to balance your constant calmness with what may not always be a reasonable amount of forethought and paranoia. I promise to sit still for most of the pictures you insist on taking of me. I promise to be your Luke Skywalker, provided you will be my Han Solo. I promise to let you show me off at parties, even when I'd like nothing more than to sleep. I promise to teach you how to make hot chocolate from scratch, and to learn how to eat hamburgers without getting ketchup all over everything. I promise to keep you warm at night when the heating goes out in our house. And most of all, I promise that whatever we have to endure, we'll endure it together." Bobby handed Cas the ring, which he held tightly, tracing the Braille symbols in the band of the ring. He took Dean's hand eagerly, holding it tightly and beaming as he slipped the ring on his finger.  
"By the power vested in me, by the state of Maryland," Bobby said, "I now pronounce you, married. You may kiss the groom." Dean set his hand on Cas' cheek and kissed him, tenderly and slowly and under the warm fall sun. Cas smiled as the guests applauded and Bobby announced, "Ladies 'n gentlemen, for the first time, Dean and Castiel Winchester-Milton." They leaned apart, Dean lifted Cas' hand into the air proudly, and they walked back down the aise, together.  


It was perfect, and it was untarnished, and it was, as Dean (Cas' husband, as he had to remind himself so many times that day) would later put it, "awesome."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's really late...that's the last time I'll be saying that. (On this work, at least.) Yes, dear reader, this is the 20th and final chapter of Blind (all this time and I couldn't think of a better title.) I never thought we'd make it this far-zeros the number of hits to the kudos to the amount of comments, it's been a really awesome surprise to see the support for the fic, so thank you all very, very much! As always, tell me what you thought of the whole thing, so I know what I can work on for my next fic (which is called Things Remembered-it's a lot angstier than this one, so be prepared.) Also, because I don't have enough to do, you can leave me prompts in the comments, in my inbox, or both if you're really zealous. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first try at an OTP-heavy fanfic. Wish me luck and tell me your thoughts in the comments! Also, thanks to my lovely beta Natalie-check out her tumblr Jensensbluesteelface. More soon!


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